Madrill disagrees. A recovering addict who used to use both alcohol and methamphetamine, she has worked in low-wage jobs since getting clean nearly a decade ago. In that time, she said, she's been among the minimum-wage and low-wage crowd and has seen first-hand the struggles of such a life.

Her one wish would be for policymakers who repeatedly fight against proposed wage increases to put themselves in her shoes, if just for a day, to fully understand the lives of low-wage workers in the state.

"They look at us like we don't try," Madrill said. "I would like to have one of those people, one day, do our job and tell their story. Just one day, and I guarantee you, they won't make it. I guarantee you, they wouldn't want to do it again."

A typical day for Madrill used to go something like this: Work all day at Ogden CAP, come home for a half-hour to check on her children and feed them dinner, work a four- to five-hour shift at Subway, come home, put the children to bed, and spend the next several hours cleaning the family's three-bedroom Ogden townhouse and doing laundry, often by hand in the kitchen sink, because she couldn't afford to go to the laundromat.

"I'm not asking for anybody to feel sorry for us, to feel pity for us, for a handout," she said. But Madrill does want lawmakers to understand, through their own experience, that many of the state's low-wage workers are not deadbeats, living off public assistance.

Her addictions caused Madrill to lose her children for a period of time many years ago, and she now wants them to see that she is working toward a better life for all of them.

"I want my kids to learn that life isn't handed on a platter," she said. "You have to work for what you want."

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E-mail: awelling@desnews.com