My son is working in Abu Dhabi on a special engineering project for an American firm.  There is a mix of international workers on the project. 

He says that Ugandans are the hardest workers, the most diligent, the most cheerful, and the most eager to put in extra hours.  Brits are the worst.  They spend their evenings drinking and carousing, and come to work hung over, late, or not at all.  They complain, don't follow instructions, and don't take pride in their work.

Quite ironic:  The former colonial and imperial conquerors have gone to seed.

It's a similar story at the nursing center of the retirement community where my Mom has advanced dementia and is under 24/7 care.

A black immigrant from the Bahamas works as a Certified Nursing Assistant while raising two kids with her husband and completing her nursing degree.  She is appalled that American whites and blacks don't stay married for the good of their kids, are covered in tattoos, and, for African Americans in particular, dress and behave like gangstas.  She dosen't understand why anyone would hire them.

Another black immigrant, this one from Kenya, is struck by how overweight Americans are and by the junk food they eat

A Filipino employee is like the Ugandans my son works with:  cheerful and hard-working.  Same with the Mexicans.

Native-born whites are a different story. Most didn't take advantage of all the advantages that were available to them when growing up.  A few of them are mature enough to admit it and blame themselves instead of "the Man," the system, the rich, or recent immigrants. They didn't apply themselves in school, had parents who didn't make them apply themselves, or came from broken families.  They spent their free time smoking pot, playing video games, strumming a guitar, and otherwise goofing off instead of studying or learning a trade. 

One in his late forties says he was like a hippie in his twenties, traveling around from one part-time job to the next and even living in communes.  Every week he has a new idea for improving his lot in life.  One week it was to get a commercial driving license and become an over-the-road truck driver.  Another week it was to drive for Uber.  His dreams never pan out, though, because he spends his free time playing the guitar in his double-wide and writing songs, in the hope that he'll become a hit someday.  At least he knows that his predicament is self-inflicted and that the likes of Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump aren't going to turn his life around.

The immigrants who care for my Mom are like my Mom was in her youth.  My Mom was orphaned as an infant and raised by her immigrant aunt and uncle in a rented walk-up in St. Louis, where they lived on a waiter's pay and never owned a car.  Yet they somehow managed to send her to Catholic schools for 12 years.  My Dad's story was similar. However, my parents didn't complain about their lot in life, other than having to pay taxes to support ne'er-do-wells.  They lived below their meager means, sent me to Catholic schools, drilled into my hard head the importance of studying and working, and saved money all their lives on their meager income--which is why my Mom can afford to live in a nice retirement community and receive 24/7 care without being a burden on me or taxpayers. 

It's sobering that such a work ethic, attitude, and common sense have been lost in three generations of Americans (and Brits).  A silver lining with my Mom's dementia is that she doesn't see what's happening to America.