In the passageway near the store, Big John grabbed me and said. "They've sacked Steve."
"Steve?"
"Yair. You know, Steve the Greek," replied the boilermaker/fitters delegate. "You know - our offsider, the Trades Assistant who works with the fitters and me."
"What for?"
"Something to do with taking a sickie. Didn't ring up so Hazard blew him away."
"What about his union? Aren't they looking after him?"
"Them fuckers only look after themselves, they wouldn't stick their necks out for noone, you ought to know that."
This would be right. Us tradesmen were all members of our respective unions. The nurses had their own outfit and the rest, and that meant the majority, at the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital were covered by the Health and Research Employees Association. From the highest paid laboratory staffer to the lowest paid shithouse cleaner. All in the same union and that included our boiler attendants and tradesmen's assistants, or off-siders. All up, a closed shop with a cast of over five thousand.
And their union officials were so far up the management's arse all you could see was the soles of their boots. The big bloke was right. Steve would get bugger all help from that lot.
"That makes it hard. What can we do?"
No hesitation here. "When we get our blokes together at morning tea, we'll bung on a meeting," he said. "We got to do something. Can't leave the poor bastard out on a limb, him being crook and all."
This won't be easy I thought. As electrician's delegate and Shop Committee Secretary I knew there'd be a whinge from some of the troops about exceeding our 'charter'.
John seemed to sense the hesitation. "I'll chair the show, you do the spruikin'," he said. You talk better than me." "O.K., but don't expect our blokes to take too kind to it."
Five minutes into smoko in the communal lunch room, John called for order, announced we were having a meeting and waited for the groans of disapproval to die down.
"What the fuck for," from a plumber. "Can't we have a cup of tea in peace, it's union, always bloody union."
"Shut your guts and listen," said the big bloke.
He's hard to argue with I thought and outlined what we had discussed. How Steve had missed a couple of days and hadn't rung the office to let them know. How Hazzard, our recently installed new maintenance manager, had him on the carpet. How Steve had been asked to give an undertaking to abide by the rules. Not understanding the question he had given the wrong answer and our beloved ex-navy commander boss gave him a week's notice.
"That's his fault," from a painter, "them's the rules."
"But he didn't understand the question," I said. "They should have got him an interpreter ."
"Interrupter be fucked. These wogs know quick smart when they're a dollar short in the pay."
"Should learn to speak English proper," from a card player, snotty because he's on a full house and play suspended.
"That's not the point. We ought to see the boss and ask him to reconsider."
And so it went, in a continuing flow of assertions, recriminations and for and against argument. The hooter screamed and the blokes started to get up to leave.
"I move we stay here until we decide what to do."
I looked at the until now silent young electrician who had spoken. Tony was from Wollongong of Yugoslav migrant parents, whose father worked at the steelworks. Quick as a flash the big bloke was....
"Alright, all those in favour." About one third of the hands went up. "Those against?" About another third murmured opposition. "Right, motion carried."
Discontent rumbled through the assembly. "I didn't vote," said old Ken, not noted for his militancy or love of what he called 'the foreign shit'.
"Well you had your chance," replied the young feller.
"I didn't vote because he's not a member of any of our unions. It's none of our business. Let his union look after it," This was too much for the metallies delegate.
"Not a member of our union," he snorted, "you don't know the first thing about unions you gutless turd. Unions got fuck-all to do with it. He's a workmate of ours and it comes down to class." Drawing another breath he ground out. "I move we stay here until Hazzard puts him back on and the Shop Committee goes and tells the management that we are on the grass until Steve gets his job back."
I hoped noone would raise the rules of debate. In the stunned moment that followed this outburst I put the motion and with the boilermaker eyeing everyone with contempt not a hand went up in opposition.
With everyone still sitting there, the delegates adjourned downstairs to the office and walked in on Hazzard.
"What a nice surprise, gentlemen. What's the trouble?"
"No trouble," I says, "we just want Steve's dismissal withdrawn."
"Oh, that's none of your business. The matter was discussed with his union organiser and it's finished with." The works 'hazard' was smug.
"It might be finished for you but not for us," says John, "we just took a vote and decided umoaniously to stay out until you change your mind," and motioning to the other delos he stalked out and we followed.
"You and me are going to pay that union organiser a visit," he says and headed downstairs to the underground tunnels that honeycombed the hospital. No sooner had we entered the tunnel than a portly, suited figure came round the corner under the laundry.
"Shit, here he is, the man himself," said my mate, "the grapevine moves fast around here. Hazzard must have warned him on the blower." Before he could slip past John blocked him.
"What are you doing about Steve?" he ground out at the startled organiser.
"Nothing. He's had his chances and blew them," says Grey, "besides which he's not a member of yours and it's got nothing to do with you."
In a second the big feller had grabbed the official by his shirt front and banged him up against the wall. "I'm bloody sick and tired of hearing that shit. You're about the fourth one this morning to pull that crap on us."
"Let me go," gasped Grey, white-faced. "Or I'll have you for assault."
"You'll WHAT? I'll give you something to report me about unless you get your fat arse upstairs and tell that prick in the office that Steve is to be given his job back."
I joined him. "And all the tradesmen are out until you get the union to demand his reinstatement." The no nonsense approach had fired me up as well.
Tearing himself away, Grey took off.
"Well, mate," says John. "We might be in the shit but that was worth it."
Upstairs to where our brothers were still sitting and arguing the toss we told the mob to pack up for the day and we'd meet again in the morning.
That afternoon we went into town and made a report to some discrimination mob as a back up. In the morning everyone headed for the lunchroom instead of clocking on. Bill, the Assistant Manager was waiting.
Having got attention he said. "In all the circumstances management has lifted the dismissal notice in favor of a warning. You can go and clock on and we'll forget the whole business."
And the nice bit was that Steve the Greek went round all the workshops and gave a hug and a kiss to everyone, or to everyone he could find, to thank them for what they had done.
As even old Ken said in a shamefaced way, "I suppose we did the right thing after all. But he needn't have kissed me. Made me feel like a bit of a poof."
"Steve?"
"Yair. You know, Steve the Greek," replied the boilermaker/fitters delegate. "You know - our offsider, the Trades Assistant who works with the fitters and me."
"What for?"
"Something to do with taking a sickie. Didn't ring up so Hazard blew him away."
"What about his union? Aren't they looking after him?"
"Them fuckers only look after themselves, they wouldn't stick their necks out for noone, you ought to know that."
This would be right. Us tradesmen were all members of our respective unions. The nurses had their own outfit and the rest, and that meant the majority, at the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital were covered by the Health and Research Employees Association. From the highest paid laboratory staffer to the lowest paid shithouse cleaner. All in the same union and that included our boiler attendants and tradesmen's assistants, or off-siders. All up, a closed shop with a cast of over five thousand.
And their union officials were so far up the management's arse all you could see was the soles of their boots. The big bloke was right. Steve would get bugger all help from that lot.
"That makes it hard. What can we do?"
No hesitation here. "When we get our blokes together at morning tea, we'll bung on a meeting," he said. "We got to do something. Can't leave the poor bastard out on a limb, him being crook and all."
This won't be easy I thought. As electrician's delegate and Shop Committee Secretary I knew there'd be a whinge from some of the troops about exceeding our 'charter'.
John seemed to sense the hesitation. "I'll chair the show, you do the spruikin'," he said. You talk better than me." "O.K., but don't expect our blokes to take too kind to it."
Five minutes into smoko in the communal lunch room, John called for order, announced we were having a meeting and waited for the groans of disapproval to die down.
"What the fuck for," from a plumber. "Can't we have a cup of tea in peace, it's union, always bloody union."
"Shut your guts and listen," said the big bloke.
He's hard to argue with I thought and outlined what we had discussed. How Steve had missed a couple of days and hadn't rung the office to let them know. How Hazzard, our recently installed new maintenance manager, had him on the carpet. How Steve had been asked to give an undertaking to abide by the rules. Not understanding the question he had given the wrong answer and our beloved ex-navy commander boss gave him a week's notice.
"That's his fault," from a painter, "them's the rules."
"But he didn't understand the question," I said. "They should have got him an interpreter ."
"Interrupter be fucked. These wogs know quick smart when they're a dollar short in the pay."
"Should learn to speak English proper," from a card player, snotty because he's on a full house and play suspended.
"That's not the point. We ought to see the boss and ask him to reconsider."
And so it went, in a continuing flow of assertions, recriminations and for and against argument. The hooter screamed and the blokes started to get up to leave.
"I move we stay here until we decide what to do."
I looked at the until now silent young electrician who had spoken. Tony was from Wollongong of Yugoslav migrant parents, whose father worked at the steelworks. Quick as a flash the big bloke was....
"Alright, all those in favour." About one third of the hands went up. "Those against?" About another third murmured opposition. "Right, motion carried."
Discontent rumbled through the assembly. "I didn't vote," said old Ken, not noted for his militancy or love of what he called 'the foreign shit'.
"Well you had your chance," replied the young feller.
"I didn't vote because he's not a member of any of our unions. It's none of our business. Let his union look after it," This was too much for the metallies delegate.
"Not a member of our union," he snorted, "you don't know the first thing about unions you gutless turd. Unions got fuck-all to do with it. He's a workmate of ours and it comes down to class." Drawing another breath he ground out. "I move we stay here until Hazzard puts him back on and the Shop Committee goes and tells the management that we are on the grass until Steve gets his job back."
I hoped noone would raise the rules of debate. In the stunned moment that followed this outburst I put the motion and with the boilermaker eyeing everyone with contempt not a hand went up in opposition.
With everyone still sitting there, the delegates adjourned downstairs to the office and walked in on Hazzard.
"What a nice surprise, gentlemen. What's the trouble?"
"No trouble," I says, "we just want Steve's dismissal withdrawn."
"Oh, that's none of your business. The matter was discussed with his union organiser and it's finished with." The works 'hazard' was smug.
"It might be finished for you but not for us," says John, "we just took a vote and decided umoaniously to stay out until you change your mind," and motioning to the other delos he stalked out and we followed.
"You and me are going to pay that union organiser a visit," he says and headed downstairs to the underground tunnels that honeycombed the hospital. No sooner had we entered the tunnel than a portly, suited figure came round the corner under the laundry.
"Shit, here he is, the man himself," said my mate, "the grapevine moves fast around here. Hazzard must have warned him on the blower." Before he could slip past John blocked him.
"What are you doing about Steve?" he ground out at the startled organiser.
"Nothing. He's had his chances and blew them," says Grey, "besides which he's not a member of yours and it's got nothing to do with you."
In a second the big feller had grabbed the official by his shirt front and banged him up against the wall. "I'm bloody sick and tired of hearing that shit. You're about the fourth one this morning to pull that crap on us."
"Let me go," gasped Grey, white-faced. "Or I'll have you for assault."
"You'll WHAT? I'll give you something to report me about unless you get your fat arse upstairs and tell that prick in the office that Steve is to be given his job back."
I joined him. "And all the tradesmen are out until you get the union to demand his reinstatement." The no nonsense approach had fired me up as well.
Tearing himself away, Grey took off.
"Well, mate," says John. "We might be in the shit but that was worth it."
Upstairs to where our brothers were still sitting and arguing the toss we told the mob to pack up for the day and we'd meet again in the morning.
That afternoon we went into town and made a report to some discrimination mob as a back up. In the morning everyone headed for the lunchroom instead of clocking on. Bill, the Assistant Manager was waiting.
Having got attention he said. "In all the circumstances management has lifted the dismissal notice in favor of a warning. You can go and clock on and we'll forget the whole business."
And the nice bit was that Steve the Greek went round all the workshops and gave a hug and a kiss to everyone, or to everyone he could find, to thank them for what they had done.
As even old Ken said in a shamefaced way, "I suppose we did the right thing after all. But he needn't have kissed me. Made me feel like a bit of a poof."
