“I was thinking about something Dumbledore said…
(what’s that?)
Even though we have a fight ahead of us, we’ve got something
worth fighting for”
Harry Potter
When I was nineteen, I was forced to get a second job to supplement a new nursing assignment where I worked nights on a rotating shift; I never knew when or how many days I would be working until that week and usually it was no more than two, not sufficient at the end of the month when rent and bills came due. A friend told me that they had an opening where she worked, a mail order catalogue company, and I began a full time day job as a Customer Service rep., answering phones and correspondence, mostly complaints, while still working nights at the hospital, with mostly complaints there too.
The company operated out of a large warehouse and the administrative team was set up in the back of the building where the garage loading dock doors were. There was a line of cabinets arranged in front of them, blocking them mostly from view and the four Customer Service teams sat arranged in groups of four, two of us facing the other, organized on either side against the walls, with a few other free standing desks for the clerical staff. With the exception of myself and my friend, all were women middle aged or older. As time went on I got to know them and their stories; single mother fighting her ex for child support for years, unable to feed her kids and denied food stamps, women meek and timid, some with abusive spouses with no options out and others widowed and having to work well into their 70s. All uneducated, afraid, struggling and desperate to hold onto what they had; no complaints.
In the summer the heat was suffocating, there were no windows and no air conditioning. When we had a good rain, water would come through the loading doors and flood the floor beneath and around the file cabinets, causing us to walk through it several times a day. In the winter, with no heat, the cold air would push through the doors and we would wear hats, coats and gloves, along with blankets from home. One of my teammates sat with both feet always in her bottom drawer, fiercely afraid of the rats that would run along the wall across our desks and the floor. And there were no paid sick days.
Along the way, I would ask if anyone had brought this up to management; surely we shouldn’t have to work in these conditions. They had, they told me but nothing had happened. After a few of those discussions, I suggested we make a list of our issues and hand them in. They didn’t agree nor disagree, they basically just told me that nothing was going to come of it. Well, I felt strongly enough about it that I did make the list and also added a request to have at least two paid sick days as opposed to none and then proceeded to have a respectful discussion with our Manager, and elder woman, who assured me they would look into it. Two weeks later and not one word, I went back to her to see if there was any decision. There was nothing yet. Another two weeks and another visit, she told me there was nothing they could do. Hmmm…
I thanked her as I walked out but wasn’t sure what infuriated me more, that they did nothing because they knew they could get away with it or the blatant act of all of us being taken advantage of. Hmmm…
I then started what they would later call in court, “covert activities” by holding secret meetings to unionize, making sure it was off work hours. At first it was only my closest colleagues, whom I trusted explicitly and who came to support me more than embracing the cause - but I took it. Little by little as time went on we would bring one or two more into the fold, being very careful not to raise our employers’ suspicions. We were gaining momentum and getting cards signed in order to hold a vote - the hardest and scariest thing to get them to do, and then I was fired. Seems one of the women brought into the later meetings, by another colleague, was asked by management to find out what was going on.
When my Manager called me into her office to “lay me off”, I asked why, when we were in the busiest season, overtime was mandatory and there were boxes and boxes overflowing all over her office and out on the floor with correspondence to be handled. She just smiled and told me they didn’t have enough work to keep me. The next day, my girlfriend stood on top of my desk with a sign she made and told everyone why I was let go, she was pissed. Within that week and the next few weeks, she would be let go along with the core group of “rebels”. And I realized at that point, just as the injustice to them inspired me to action, the injustice done to me inspired them to do the same.
We continued the fight, made signs, got our plight out in the public, picketed in front of their building and were met with angry men and shotguns; it was the 70’s. Back then picket lines were respected and none of the truckers delivering or picking up goods would cross our line and their business was impacted. We took them to court to get back pay for wrongful termination, all the time we kept fighting. In the end, we won our court cases but lost the fight because by the time they were finally able to hold the vote, lots of legal stalling allowed the company to get rid of a vast majority of the original gang and for the new people, it wasn’t their fight.
I have always had this sense of justice and fighting for the underdog, those that are unable to fight for themselves or need help. I am compelled to act immediately and without consequence. Sometimes it works out, sometimes not. But it never deters me or leaves me with regret.
What, to you, is worth fighting for?
