Transcribe
Translate
Ernest Rodriguez' "Impressions," 1960s-1980s
""The Year 1970"" by Ernest Rodriguez Page 1
More information
digital collection
archival collection guide
transcription tips
It was Jan. 14, as usual the kids woke me up with their bustling and quarreling going through the rituals of getting ready for school. I laid in bed dreading the though of having to get up and wishing I could do back to sleep for a few hours. I finally went downstairs to shave. I had hardly finished this morning chore when one of kids piped. “Come on Dad we’re gonna be late.” “Awright I’m coming.” I said. I dropped them at school then headed west on Locust en-route to the Union office. I went over some of the important points of the organizing campaign I thought we would have to bring up at the hearing on the representation election. I though it surprising that a company would use very means available to delay an election to prevent its employees from voting for a union. Then I thought of one of the model handbills in my organizer’s folder for use during an election campaign. It pointed out to workers that the delaying of the election would save the company money it would otherwise have to pay the workers in fringe benefits and wages and to offset this loss, the worker should ask for more when negotiating a contact got underway. I arrived at the Union Hall and was admitted by the receptionist to go back to Alan Lee’s office but not before she called him on the intercom and checked with him. This formality always irritated me somewhat making me feel like an unwelcome salesman. He usually greeted me with, “How are you, buddy,” with an uncertain look as if he wasn’t sure why I was there. But I had
Saving...
prev
next
It was Jan. 14, as usual the kids woke me up with their bustling and quarreling going through the rituals of getting ready for school. I laid in bed dreading the though of having to get up and wishing I could do back to sleep for a few hours. I finally went downstairs to shave. I had hardly finished this morning chore when one of kids piped. “Come on Dad we’re gonna be late.” “Awright I’m coming.” I said. I dropped them at school then headed west on Locust en-route to the Union office. I went over some of the important points of the organizing campaign I thought we would have to bring up at the hearing on the representation election. I though it surprising that a company would use very means available to delay an election to prevent its employees from voting for a union. Then I thought of one of the model handbills in my organizer’s folder for use during an election campaign. It pointed out to workers that the delaying of the election would save the company money it would otherwise have to pay the workers in fringe benefits and wages and to offset this loss, the worker should ask for more when negotiating a contact got underway. I arrived at the Union Hall and was admitted by the receptionist to go back to Alan Lee’s office but not before she called him on the intercom and checked with him. This formality always irritated me somewhat making me feel like an unwelcome salesman. He usually greeted me with, “How are you, buddy,” with an uncertain look as if he wasn’t sure why I was there. But I had
Campus Culture
sidebar
