Catawba County’s unemployment rate may look good on paper, but the reality underneath tells a different story. People are working, yet too many are living on the edge. Jobs are easy to find, but real opportunity is not. Labor Market Compression looks at how this region’s economy has become trapped between motion and progress—busy but stalled, full but fragile.
On the Surface
Catawba County’s economy looks steady from a distance. Its labor market still bears the marks of a city that “makes things.” From machine shops to specialty fiber optics, the legacy of production persists. The unemployment rate sits below four percent, new developments rise along the main corridors, and local officials point to low joblessness as proof of progress.
But beneath the surface, the numbers hide a deeper truth: something vital is eroding. Jobs exist, but careers don’t. Most people can find work, but few can climb beyond survival wages. The pathways that once let working families rise—through trades, apprenticeships, and steady jobs with real benefits—are collapsing. What remains is a fragmented system that fails both the aging workforce and the emerging one. This is labor-market compression—an economy where the ladder still stands, but the middle rungs are gone.
This gap between appearance and reality defines life for thousands of households—steady employment without lasting progress. Manufacturing, which once offered dependable pay and long-term employment, has been replaced by retail, food service, warehouses, and contract jobs. These positions keep people busy but don’t build savings or security. Many workers now juggle two jobs just to keep bills paid. On paper, the economy looks fine; in real life, it’s stuck. Families are working harder than ever and falling further behind.
This is not a cyclical downturn—it’s a structural shift. The economy of Hickory has not adapted to the disappearance of traditional job ladders. Many of the region’s most stable industrial employers now demand far fewer workers due to automation. Others rely increasingly on temporary labor, subcontracting, or immigrant workers, bypassing investments in local training and job security.
Wage Stagnation and the Disappearing Ladder
Wages in Catawba County haven’t kept pace with the cost of living. The average hourly pay has risen only a few dollars in the past decade, while housing, energy, and food prices have climbed much faster. The result is a workforce that looks employed but lives under constant strain. Many families that once saved for a car, a down payment, or education now spend everything they earn just to stay afloat. The traditional promise that hard work leads to stability no longer holds true.
Adding to the problem, many of today’s better-paying jobs require credentials that cost thousands of dollars and years of schooling—barriers that lock out working adults who can’t afford to pause their income. Companies say they struggle to find qualified workers, but much of that “shortage” comes from inflated job requirements and the absence of paid training. Instead of developing talent, employers expect workers to arrive already certified and experienced, pushing the cost of preparation onto the individual.
This is how the middle of the workforce disappears. Experienced workers in their 50s and 60s are displaced from the jobs they trained for, leave the region in search of opportunity, or retire early. Many of the “tweeners” in their 30s and 40s remain stuck in stagnant roles with declining real wages. The problem isn’t a shortage of people—it’s a shortage of opportunity. Experience that once provided security now guarantees little more than survival.
Young, entry-level workers—even those emerging from trade programs or community colleges—face an uncertain future. High schools have scaled back many of their vocational offerings, and too many graduates with associate degrees discover that promised career pathways either don’t exist or lead to temporary jobs with no benefits. What used to be a steady climb toward stability has become a revolving door of short-term work and false starts. And when that happens, those young workers don’t wait—they leave the area to find opportunity elsewhere.
Distorted Economics and Workforce Disconnection
Hickory’s labor economy is being reshaped by both demographic forces and policy failures. The influx of immigrant labor—often underpaid and lacking bargaining power—has kept wages low in sectors like construction, food service, and manufacturing. Employers benefit from a cheaper, more flexible workforce, but local workers carry the cost in stagnant wages and fewer paths to advancement. At the same time, the growing retiree population fuels demand for housing, healthcare, and services without adding to the supply of skilled labor. The result is an unbalanced system—one group consuming local resources while another provides the labor to sustain them, often without stability or fair pay. The economy moves, but its gears no longer fit together.
Compounding the problem, there is no clear strategy to align education, training, and employment. Hickory and the surrounding region lack a coordinated workforce development plan that connects middle schools, high schools, trade programs, and local industries into a single talent pipeline. Instead, training programs react to short-term job postings rather than anticipating long-term needs. Companies complain about labor shortages, yet many of those shortages are self-inflicted—created by inflated credential requirements and the absence of paid, practical training.
No one is steering the system toward a common goal. There’s no shared plan defining which industries the region wants to grow or how to build the workforce to support them. Without that alignment, students graduate into uncertainty, employers recruit from outside the region, and opportunity keeps slipping away. Hickory’s economy doesn’t suffer from a lack of effort; it suffers from disconnection. Until education, employers, and government start operating from the same playbook, the region will keep mistaking motion for progress.
The ALICE Economy: Working But Not Secure
When the economy stops rewarding effort, the damage doesn’t show up first in headlines—it shows up in households. The people most affected by this disconnection aren’t the ones writing policy or recruiting labor from afar; they’re the ones trying to make ends meet on jobs that no longer move them forward. Every missing opportunity, every stagnant wage, and every unfilled promise of advancement trickles down into the same result: families who are working full time but still living one expense away from crisis.
Catawba County’s “working class” is now better described as the ALICE economy—households that are Asset Limited, Income Constrained, and Employed. These are the people who stock shelves, drive delivery routes, provide elder care, and cook meals in restaurants. They make too much to qualify for public aid but not enough to cover monthly expenses. The United Way’s 2023 ALICE report shows that nearly 40 percent of local households fall into this category. They’re working, but every unexpected bill—a car repair, a medical visit, a spike in the power bill—can knock them off balance.
This is what compression looks like at the ground level. The official unemployment rate hides the daily math of survival: working full time and still coming up short. Families can’t build a savings cushion or plan ahead, so they rely on credit cards, payday loans, and help from relatives. As costs rise faster than pay, more families slip from stability into strain. What appears to be a low jobless rate is actually a high rate of quiet struggle—a local economy that doesn’t provide a fair trade for a person’s labor.
The Credential Barrier: When Jobs Outrun People
In today’s labor market, many of the best jobs are out of reach not because people lack ability, but because the entry gates keep moving higher. Employers now ask for college degrees or technical certificates for work that once relied on experience and training. It’s called credential creep, and it keeps good workers stuck. A job that once hired a high-school graduate now asks for a two-year degree. A management role that once came from promotion now requires a bachelor’s.
For many adults in Catawba County, those new requirements are not realistic. Tuition costs thousands of dollars, community college programs are limited, and workers can’t afford to stop earning while they study. Companies say they can’t find qualified people, but most are unwilling to invest in apprenticeships or on-the-job training. The result is a workforce frozen in place—experienced workers aging out and younger ones locked out.
A company that requires a degree or certificate without providing a pathway isn’t really looking for workers. And a system that prioritizes degrees and certificates over potential isn’t building a strong economy. This approach narrows participation and limits growth. The question is whether it’s happening by accident—or by design.
White-Collar Stagnation and the Innovation Gap
The white-collar economy has stalled just as severely as the blue-collar one. Hickory and the greater Foothills have struggled to attract new headquarters, creative industries, or innovation hubs that could anchor higher-skill employment. There are few visible routes into technology, media, or professional services for local graduates. Global giants such as Commscope and Corning still employ residents, but the city itself functions as a production site—not a research or development cluster. That’s a missed opportunity for both talent retention and civic identity.
A failure to imagine the future has left Hickory’s economy dependent on the past. The same habits that once rewarded industrial loyalty now hold the region back. The working class finds fewer paths to advancement, and the next generation faces an economy that values nostalgia over strategy. And nostalgia doesn’t pay wages.
The Cost of Compression: Burnout, Attrition, and the Shrinking Talent Pool
When wages stall and advancement disappears, burnout becomes the silent tax of a compressed labor market. Across Catawba County, employers struggle to keep workers because the work itself no longer leads anywhere. People cycle through retail, manufacturing, healthcare, and service jobs at a pace that drains both productivity and morale. Turnover is high not because people don’t want to work, but because the system keeps them stuck in jobs that don’t pay enough to live or grow.
This pressure builds from the bottom up. When one worker quits, others take on the load. When those workers burn out, the system fills the gaps with temporary or contract labor. Every replacement costs training time, efficiency, and consistency. The short-term fix becomes a long-term drag. Companies stay open but lose quality, experience, and loyalty.
A shrinking talent pool doesn’t always mean people are leaving town—it means they’re leaving the fight. Some take early retirement, others settle for part-time work, and many just stop believing things will improve. It’s a slow erosion, not a sudden collapse, and it’s visible in every field that depends on skill and stamina.
The Corporate Disconnect: Profit without Circulation
Even when businesses appear to be thriving, the benefits don’t always reach the people doing the work. Much of Catawba County’s economy now runs through outside ownership—companies headquartered elsewhere, franchise operations, and national logistics firms that treat local labor as an expense, not an investment. Profits made here leave our region quickly and are transferred to the communities where those corporate franchises are located. The money that once circulated through local shops, banks, and neighborhoods now exits through corporate pipelines to distant shareholders.
This is why growth often feels unreal in our community. A new plant or warehouse may create jobs, but those jobs rarely build community wealth. Wages stay flat while costs rise around them. Automation replaces human skill in one corner of the economy while inflation eats away at paychecks in another. The result is an illusion of progress—a region that measures success by property value and company sales instead of stability and opportunity.
A healthy economy doesn’t just produce income; it recirculates it. When ownership, management, and profit all sit outside the region, the local economy turns into an outpost rather than a system. The more disconnected profit becomes from people, the weaker the community foundation grows underneath it.
The Road Forward: Rebalancing the Equation to Restore Alignment
Fixing Catawba County’s labor market isn’t about slogans or job fairs—it’s about restoring balance to how work and reward connect. The economy can’t run on exhausted people, and communities can’t thrive on paychecks that barely cover the basics. Real progress starts with revaluing labor as more than a cost on a spreadsheet. That means employers investing in people, not just equipment; schools and training programs aligning with actual local demand; and civic leaders measuring success by the strength of households, not the size of industrial parks.
A fair economy doesn’t punish effort—it multiplies it. When wages reflect real living costs, when workers see a path to stability, and when local ownership keeps profits circulating close to home, the entire region benefits. The labor force becomes a source of renewal instead of depletion.
Catawba County still has the ingredients for that renewal—skills, work ethic, and community pride—but it can’t keep pretending that survival equals success. Labor market compression is a warning signal. If the system doesn’t change course, effort will keep rising while outcomes keep shrinking. The challenge ahead is simple, even if it isn’t easy: build an economy that works as hard for its people as its people work for it.
The solution begins with alignment. Schools must reinvest in trade readiness—not just cosmetically, but structurally. Community colleges should coordinate closely with regional employers to offer real pathways into careers, not one-off credentials. Local governments must stop competing and start collaborating on workforce development. The region must target 21st-century sectors—technology, energy, and medical innovation—and build pipelines to support them.
Ultimately, Hickory must recognize that a labor market is more than a pool of workers. It is the foundation of civic identity. When work no longer leads to progress, dignity, or stability, the social contract begins to break down. That fracture is visible now—in youth disconnection, adult burnout, and the weakening bond between employers and employees.
“Two generations aren’t trapped by a lack of ambition—they’re trapped by a lack of alignment. That is the hollow shift. And only strategy, not sentiment, can reverse it.”
Labor Market Compression Addendum
A strong economy is supposed to reward work, not drain it. Catawba County has the people, skills, and history to rebuild a fairer system, but that means changing how success is measured. Low unemployment doesn’t mean stability when paychecks don’t match the price of living. Until labor is valued for what it’s worth, this region will keep running in place.
When an economy stops rewarding skill, it stops creating it. The same forces that compress wages also compress imagination. A region that once built the future through its hands now struggles to imagine it through its systems. Hickory’s challenge isn’t just economic—it’s technological. We’ve built the cables that connect the world, but not the networks that connect our own community.
Next week’s article, The Absent Innovation Core, examines how this region became a global manufacturer of digital infrastructure yet failed to become a digital city itself—and what it will take to turn that contradiction into a comeback.
