Thoughts on A Monday Morning

I was up a little earlier than normal this morning Ms J. My alarm was set for 4:00, but I was awake at 3:45 so I turned off the alarm and got out of bed. 3:45 AM. Three forty-five in the morning. That does seem an ungodly hour to rise and begin the day, doesn't it? Oh well. A man does what he has to to earn a living. I noticed Deb was scheduled to work Job 10 this morning, my old job, the job I can't risk working while she's on it.

I phoned Joe on Saturday. Joe's our union steward. I told him I had worked with Deb on Friday and expressed my concerns.

"I know, Dale," he said. "You're not the first to complain. I wonder who rode with her to qualify her in commuter service?"

I gave him the name of the supervisor who had pronounced her "qualified."

"Really?" asked Joe. "He hasn't operated a train for years. Many years. More than a decade. I wonder how he feels he's qualified to qualify anybody?"

"He's a supervisor, Joe. He just does as he's told. I suspect his supervisor issued a direct order to him. 'She's had enough training. Get her out there working on her own. Now.'"

There was silence on the line and I imagined Joe's head bobbing in agreement as he took in the Truth of my statement.

"Yeah. They do pretty much whatever they want now, don't they?"

I didn't reply and he continued.

"They fire good people and promote the incompetent ones. They have no regard for the safety of the public or the welfare of their employees. And did you know I attended a meeting yesterday where I learned they plan to discipline you for that red light incident?"

I was shocked, Ms Journal.

"What the fuck, Joe?! I was at the other end of the train, a thousand feet away! What was I supposed to have done??"

"I don't know, Dale, but they're going to give you ten demerit points anyway."

I just received ten demerits a few weeks ago for exercising my RIGHT to book rest as is formally afforded me by our labour agreement. So now I'll have 20 demerits. Sixty is the magic number, Ms J. When you accumulate sixty, you're fired.

It's an odd thing, you know. Things had been going fairly well at work for the past 28 years or so. Then things changed. EVERYTHING changed. It was the American invasion. And Life at work will never be good again.

I operate a commuter train. They're called GO trains. G.O. stands for Government of Ontario. GO Transit was formed in 1967 by the provincial government. It is they who own the trains and administer the system. CN Rail is my employer. They are contracted by GO Transit to operate their trains.

But since the Yanks have arrived, pushing their weight around and treating people like SHIT, ... Well, we just don't feel motivated anymore to go the extra mile, to come to work when we're tired, to work extra shifts when required. My direct supervisor is a cruel tyrant who seems to take pleasure in the suffering of train crews. He's always out looking for trouble in the form of petty rule infractions, and poised to inflict severe discipline. His name is Mr. Kelly.

KELLY! Can you believe that, Ms J??!! Why is it that that name is so connected with my misery?? Clearly, there's some lesson here for me. But before I can learn it, I'll have to figure out what on Earth it is.

And GO Transit are very dis-satisfied with the level of service they've received from CN recently. They are so upset, in fact, that they're considering severing ties with CN and hiring another railroad company to operate their trains. That would mean about 170 men would lose their jobs. And mine would be among them.

Maybe they're bluffing, Ms J. Maybe they wouldn't or couldn't find another railroad to run the trains. I really don't know. Our contract expires in May of 2008. After that, I don't know what will become of us. Maybe we'll be employed by GO Transit directly.

If that option were made available to us, Ms J, men would flee the oppression and smirking arrogance of our current masters like rats from a sinking ship. And sink it will if the pricks at CN don't soon begin to consider the value of their employees.

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