On a good day, a group of at work cleaning windshields at busy Denver intersections for 12 hours might make around $70 — splitting the money between 10 or more people.
Despite the low payoff, that work has become a common sight across the city in recent months: Men and women standing on road medians or sidewalks, squeegees and bottles of cleaning liquid in hand, offering quick window washes while drivers wait for a green light.
At the intersection of Speer Boulevard and Zuni Street on Tuesday evening, several migrants said drivers have mostly treated them with kindness, kicking in a few bucks here and there. Sometimes, they’ve received angry responses, along with aggression from some business owners and police officers, as their presence has prompted concerns — as well as efforts by Denver police to warn about safety risks and potential violations of local laws.
Still, except in the most frigid weather, many show up for work again and again.
“We are never in a bad mood (when we’re together),” Jhony Soto, 26, said in Spanish through a translator. “We’re happy all together. Always smiling.”
Tens of thousands of people fleeing a humanitarian and economic crisis in Venezuela have flooded into Denver for more than a year. Large numbers of migrants continue to make their way to the city, with 3,959 staying in shelters as of Thursday afternoon, according to city data. Those who remain in Denver while they wait for their asylum cases to play out face an additional hurdle: delays in work permits.
Due to federal restrictions on work authorizations for people with pending asylum cases, migrants often wait months or even years. The federal government last year made Venezuelans who arrived in the U.S. by July 31 , which allows for work permits, but that hasn’t been extended to more recent migrants.
Many struggle to afford basic necessities, especially as the city prepares to again limit how long migrants can stay in shelters, starting next week.
So, they’ve gotten creative, seeking opportunities for day labor and odd jobs — from snow shoveling to landscape work to windshield washing, a task that’s more common back home.
At Speer and Zuni on Tuesday, the windshield cleaners made just $1 in the past four hours. But the group of six men and one woman, who’d met on the journey from Venezuela, kept trying.
They said they typically wake up early each morning and, after they eat, buy supplies with their pool of cash, pick an intersection and get to work — hoping to convince enough drivers to pay them for a wash. They switch off workers every few hours.
“We came here with a goal: to work and move forward,” said 29-year-old Freddy Arjona, one of the window washers at Speer and Zuni, through the translator. “How else are we going to do this, without starting at this type of work to pay for things?”
Though ad-hoc windshield cleaning is a common sight in some other U.S. cities, it’s been a novelty for many drivers in Denver. Yoli Casas, the executive director of ViVe Wellness, a nonprofit that works with migrants, said that, when she first saw the window washers along Denver streets — sometimes accompanied by their families, including children — she worried about their safety.
Then, she realized she was looking at it from an American perspective.
“If you go to any place in South America — Venezuela, Colombia, Peru — there’s window washers,” said Casas, who’s originally from Venezuela. “I feel like I’m home. … Thatap how some people make a living.”
But the Denver Police Department has begun paying more attention to the activity at intersections.
In a statement, DPD said window washing in the street is “potentially dangerous,” and puts the person holding the squeegee at risk of citations or charges, including for soliciting from the roadway and aggressive panhandling. Those violations could also apply to jugglers who perform for money at intersections, DPD said.
But the department says officers are focused for now on “educating individuals” who are washing windows about the risks, rather than citing them. DPD declined to identify who wrote the statement.
Earlier Tuesday, at the intersection of East Colfax Avenue and Colorado Boulevard, cars sped past the men lining the median holding squeegees and cleaner.
When traffic stopped, they dashed between vehicles, offering quick window cleanings.
In one car, a man immediately shooed the washers away. In another, a woman held dollar bills out of the window. The majority of drivers appeared to stare straight ahead.
The men, one as young as 18 years old, joked with each other as they waited, but they declined interviews with The Denver Post. One described feeling “embarrassed.”
Ernesto Guerrero sat behind the wheel of his idling truck as a passing cleaner drew a heart on his window with a squeegee.
“It doesn’t bother me,” Guerrero said. “Thatap how they can make their money.”
But Garrett Gatewood, a sales associate at a nearby 7-Eleven store, called the cleaners’ presence a nuanced issue. “I can’t knock the hustle, but I knock it because you’re putting people in jeopardy,” he said.
“If they’re doing it illegal, then I understand where the problem comes in,” Gatewood added. “Get your paperwork, then maybe try to find a business where you can (work) legally.”
Thatap exactly what Arjona and the others said they were trying to do, as they wait eagerly for authorizations to apply for more consistent work.
“I want to get married here and have a life here,” he said. “I want to work.”
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