Dear faithful readers, I am sorry. With that out of the way I will now tell you what the deuce I have been up to for the past month. I have been working at a shop that specializes in the sale of fermented products made of grapes. Its a great job and I am learning a great deal about something that is so very fasinating. For a while I felt that I should hide that I worked at this type of unconventional store, but I think that enough people know that it is alright to share it. I also work at a major telecom company, and have for a while been battling a great deal of different emotions and reactions to what has been going on with regards to the way the union feels about the job and those who are in charge of the company. I am part of this union and have recently decided, though not an easy decision, to cross a picket line. You can call me scab, you can hate me, you can even get old men to yell at me on the picket line, but you cannot insult my person or those I love because then you are no better then the older men who yell at me to think about my dignity and think about what I am doing. I have thought about what I am doing, and I have come to the conclusion that it is a good choice, and I would not take back what I did, nor the month it took me to make the decision. You may ask what my reasons are, well let me tell you. I had been working for this major telecom company for a month and had not developed any distaste for the company nor for the managers who worked above me. I had infact started to like it since I was then able to pay rent, and able to start to live a little since I had just spent 4 years in poverty going to school. Side note, it feels so good to be able to utter the words "don't worry, its on me". So the telecom company was good to me and I was having a good time working for them. Then the job action started and since I had joined the union out of my own free will I decided that it was in my best intrest to not go to work. It was a strange decision to make since I have never been in this position before. It was fasinating to think about all those who had gone before me, ie. Lech Walesa, who used strikes to unite a country against dictators. Anyways I had planned to picket and was reading up on what both sides were saying and learning about what was up. I got up early one morning to picket and walked to the line and stood around waiting for someone to tell me what to do and then I realized what I was doing and then could not bring myself to do something of this nature since I did not believe in what was happening nor in what people wanted. I then walked out of there and went home, and then later I went to Charlie and the Chocolate factory. It was a great film. So there it was I decided not to picket, and then I decided if I was going to get involved I should talk to someone about getting into some office work, and then I did and it was confusing since there was so much going on and people were all over the place, it really led me to believe that things were not good on the side of the union. I then decided that I could not even support the union by helping around the office. I picked up some shifts at my other job and waited it out. A few weeks went by and I was not too happy since I had been spending a great deal of time at home not doing anything and annoyed at not having money. I then talked to a friend who had been crossing the picket line and she told me of perks that were being offered, and they intreged me so I called my manager and asked her if I could come back, she told me they would have to think about it, and they did and I went back. The decision to go back boils down to a few reasons. I needed money to survive, I was annoyed with the union and their treatment of my, and the lies they were telling, and that strikes were effective if everyone got involved, not just 50% like it is in Calgary. Strikes are great if you are opressed, or if your working conditions are unsatisfactory, or if your life has been wrapped up in the same job, and you are getting worked over by your boss. I, however, had been working for a month, and plan to make some cash and enjoy life for a while instead of sitting around not making any cash. So I crossed the picket line, it was alright for the first little while, not too much was said to me, but there was sometimes snide comments. Then a character defining moment occured. One of those moments when I did something not because I had thought about it, but because it just happened. As I was leaving a woman started yelling at me calling me a scab and yelling that I should hold my head up and be proud of the fact I was working for a horrible company. I dident respond and then out of no where I found myself yelling back at her. I don't usually yell, but since I was pushed far enough something just snapped, I was sick of getting yelled at. I yelled back that I was a proud employee and that she should look at this face since I was so proud, and in fact I was holding my head up since I was so proud. As I crossed the road I found myself shaking a bit from the explosion of emotion. I don't regret yelling, it was a release that was good to get out of the system. Then a few days later I left after working some overtime, it was friday, it was raining, and it was 8:30. If I was on a picketline that late I would be mad too. So this guy, he must have been in his late 30's early 40's gets in my face and starts yelling about how I was a scab and how I should think about my pride and think about my dignity. It was sad that this man, who might have kids my age, was yelling at me for something that was my choice and that he could do if he really wanted too. His job might have been at stake and I don't really hold too much against him, but I found it to be annoying at best. I had prepared things to say in such an event, and I told him, and by told I mean yelled, that Lech Walesa would not be proud of him, and then I told him that strikes are for Eastern European countries. I dont know if it went over his head or if he just dident hear me due to the fact that he was yelling so bloody loud. Then I crossed the street and I could still hear a woman yelling halfway down the platform. I was quite distressing. So thats about it, I am all typed out and all storied out for the moment, tomorrow I cross the line again to make some cash. Until next time, keep your stick on the ice.
