The unionised employees at my company went on strike this past Monday. It was all over a technicality - a misunderstanding between both parties - management & union - seems the union rep didn't relate much to the employees. The strike was a surprise to all of us since the union rep had assured my boss (the general manager of the plant) that we had a very good work contract and was certain that it would sail through.Not!
Monday morning 5:00 AM. A handful of sleepy eyed managers meet in the back offices of the "abattoir" - (sounds nicer than slaughterhouse). We have a couple thousand live ducks being trucked in within the hour and we are to replace the 40 unionised employees on the production line and produce duck ready for cooking. These ducks are already sold - grocerie stores, butcher shops, restaurants throughout the country are waiting for them to be delivered within the next 48 hours. We have no choice. Soon, our employees will show up and form a picket line at the entrance of the road down to the abattoir. The abattoir is modern - it was build 3 years ago and boasts state of the art equipement. Still, manpower is a must and today - we are it. Our plant follows all the governmental controls for sanitation and is certified HACCP (the food safety equivalent of ISO). After doning steel capped rubber boots (boots that are not alowed to be worn outside the building), lab coats, gloves, hair nets, and a big rubber apron that in my case goes down to my ankles, we take our places on the production line and wait for the first duck to arrive. It's mind-numbing and bone chilling work - boring beyond belief. The chill part is because we are working in a refrigerated room. I am wearing long johns and two pairs of socks, but eventually the cold seeps in. Duck after duck after duck after duck after duck ---- hours on end. We have to work fast - we are each doing the work of 3 people, I won't go into detail as to what exactly I was doing on the production line, needless to say, it wasn't pretty. Or fun. Or interesting. Normally, the staff is rotated every 30 minutes in order to avoid doing the same repetivive movement for too long. We don't have that luxury. We work endlessly until all the ducks are processed. Then we go to the cutting room and cut up some 200 ducks that are to leave the next morning. By 6PM, we have tocall it a day. No one is capable of doing any more. Thank goodness the cleaning crew is subcontracted to a cleaning company, so we don't have to worry about that. Exhausted, sore,and shivering, I drag my sorry ass back to the appartment and pour myself a very hot bath. I stay there for as long as possible. My hands are sore and swollen, and it will take 3 days for them to return to normal. My bed never felt so good. I learned a lot that day but the lesson that stands out the most is that no matter what work I do from now on, it's never going to be as awful as the work I did on Monday.
The strike was over by the end of the day. Everyone got what they wanted - management and unionised employees alike.
Tuesday morning, 8:15AM, I walk into my office and kiss my desk. I love my job!
That is unreal, but congrats to you and the rest of management who pulled this off! That is no easy task and i am sure you felt more than a little pain in some new muscles.
ReplyDeleteKeep in mind that you can now claim to be able to do their job, but they will never be able to do yours!