Can't he see?

Fiction

photo by Pixabay

No matter what I tell him, Dave just doesn’t understand. He’s a nice enough guy. He can handle himself well enough, I guess. But in some ways, well, he’s missing some gene, or something.

We both work at the plant, both in maintenance. Dave sets up the machines, makes sure they’re working right so that the operators can do whatever it is that they do. I work in supply, making sure all the replacement parts, lubricants, bearings, whatever, are on the shelf, ready for Dave when he needs them. He couldn’t do his job without me. And if he can’t do his job, the plant closes down. Yes, my job is that important.

I suppose Dave means well, but I wish he would just listen to me. We must present a united front. It’s the only way we can win. I can’t make him understand. Like last week. We were sitting in my office during break.

“Do you know how much the owner of this company makes?” I asked.

Dave looked at me like, ‘Here we go again.’

“Do you know how much they make?” I asked again.

Dave half laughed at me. “More than you and me put together, right?”

“You can kid about it,” I said. “But we are being screwed. They don’t care about us. We are little more than slaves.”

“Slaves can’t quit,” Dave said. “If you don’t like it here, if you don’t like the pay, quit. Problem solved.”

“OK, and then who make sure you have all the parts and supplies you need, if I quit?”

“The new guy.” Dave thought that was a good joke.

“Sure, and they’ll screw him over. Just like they screw all of us over. The only thing that works is solidarity. They meet our demands, or we stop everything. The squeaky wheel gets the grease.”

“Or it gets replaced.”

Dave just doesn’t get it. Together, we have power; one at a time, we are just slaves. We must rise up and take our rightful place. Without us, nothing happens. Why should the owner get all the money?

I can’t deny; it gets frustrating, trying to make people see the plain truth when it’s right in front of their eyes. I’ve had some success with some of the others, but it’s like herding cats to get them all to see the truth. They’re all over the place. I’ve managed to get a bunch of them together after work, at Buddy’s. Sure, they’re good for a beer, and they like to talk. But all they do is talk. We need action! Last week I handed out fliers. It’s all there in black and white. Some looked pretty closely, some not much. What does it take to get them to see how they’re being used?

I started thinking about it, and I began to see that Dave is a key. Everybody likes him. Respects him. He is a nice guy and all, but there is more to life than being liked. We need to be advocates for our own future, and if the owner doesn’t like it, tough. It serves him right.

So anyway, I decided to take a different tack with Dave. I am going to make him see how he has a responsibility to the others. He can’t think just of himself. Others look up to him. They will follow, if he will lead. And then I can make the things happen that need to happen.

Dave munched on a sandwich during lunch, in my office. He doesn’t always eat with me, but he is here now. This is my chance.

“Dave, you know how much everyone looks up to you. You’re one of the few people that everyone here knows.”

“That’s because I keep their machines running right. A lot of them are on piecework. The more they get done, the more they make. I keep their machines humming at their peak.”

“Well, sure. That counts. But don’t sell yourself short. They don’t just respect what you do, they respect who you are. They’ll go along with you. If you would just see the light, see how the owner is using us, we could make a big difference.”

Dave did his stupid down-home grin again. “We? You’ve been agitating for as long as you’ve been here, and can barely get anyone’s attention, unless you buy them a beer. I think you mean me. You want me to make it happen.”

“If you want to put it that way, sure. You. You can do it. And because you can, you must. We are all depending on you,”

“Hey, I do my job. Do it well. Anybody who’s depending on more than that can kiss my ass.”

Why is he like that? We’re all in this together. “No man is an island,” I told him. “We have to work together. In solidarity, we can call the shots.”

“I think you mean that you can call the shots.” Stupid grin again.

“I keep trying to tell you, we are all in this together. Any one of us, by ourselves, is powerless. But in unity there is strength.”

“But you would lead us, right.”

“Somebody has to be the leader. I’m willing to do it.”

“Then why are asking me to be the leader? Go ahead and lead. I’ll sit here and watch.”

Why does he have to be like this? He thinks he’s clever, yet he doesn’t see what’s happening. “It takes more than one. I keep saying that. We each have our strengths. We each have something to bring to the table.”

“Well, what do you bring to the table?”

“I bring the organizing skills. I get us all together, speaking with one voice, and I go to the owner and make the demands.”

“And those demands are?”

“First and foremost, a living wage. How am I supposed to live on fifty thousand a year? How are you supposed to?”

“I don’t,” Dave said. “I make ninety thousand.”

“What?! That’s close to double what I make. How do you get that kind of money? Are you a relative or something?”

“Nope. I’m essential, and difficult to replace. There’s not a lot of people with my skills. And even a person who has those skills would need months to become familiar with the operation. Who knows what might go wrong in the meantime. They pay me well, because they can’t afford to lose me.”

This is nuts. “But we still are all in this together. We can call the shots, through solidarity.”

“I already call the shots. They need me. Can’t afford to lose me. Oh, and I’m not a pain in the ass. I make sure that the owner gets his efficient factory, and the workers get what they need. I make people happy that way.”

“Sure, you do important work. But you couldn’t do it without me. This whole plant goes down if I don’t keep you supplied.”

“They can replace you in an afternoon. Your job is simple enough. Plenty of people can do it. No special skills or experience needed.”

“And they would treat him like crap, too. That’s why we have to make it so they can’t fire us. Solidarity…”

Dave, with a mouthful of sandwich, simply waved me off like I don’t matter. And there’s that stupid grin again. I hate this guy.

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