Rafts of donuts and soft drinks were available. The diet we may have to get used to, I thought. The room filled up and after the formalities of going through the agenda and the meeting from the last meeting, we got to the topic that everyone showed up. One of the “sisters” - for that’s how she kept referring to everyone - got up and provided us with the details of the non-progressing negotiations. The employer hasn’t offered anything and has even asked to remove some things of benefit to the employees. They’re being unfair and uncaring.
And so on. Coming from her, it just sounded like more union rhetoric. I’ve already had enough of that. Then a “brother” stood up and talked about the actions we could take now to prevent a strike from happening. He was the one I referred to when I wrote earlier that a co-worker had signs out stating the number of days to a strike. I was ready to be annoyed.
But he spoke well. Plainly, clearly, reasonable and relatively free of the usual union-speak. When he finished, I was actually impressed. I had changed my position somewhat. I no longer felt worried but instead felt that what happens, happens.
I left early because the talk devolved into the particulars of what we could do now. “We need a street presence, something that people will notice!” Why not just park a car festooned with union signs in front of the building and pay the $10 parking ticket? It’s certainly cheaper and you’d definitely be noticed by those in the building.
What happens happens. But the worry is still out there - a strike is a significant financial strain on anyone, particular when both spouses are employed by the government.
An emotional rollercoaster it is. Join me for the upcoming ride.
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