Scab

For the first time in my life I crossed a picket line today, and given the way it made me feel, I think it’ll probably be the last time.

As you may or may not know there’s a significant strike action taking place in the public sector today relating to pensions. A lot of people are frustrated by the government’s intention to change the rules regarding their pensions. Many of these people have been paying month by month for years and years, expecting to get to 60 and find a pot of money waiting for them, and since this has been promised to other public sector workers that they deserve the same… its all a bit complicated, and there are issues regarding discrimination of low paid workers, implicit sexism, and that continual tug ‘o fair-play between the public and private sector. If you’re really interested, pop along to the BBC for more info…

Anyway, the upshot of this was me having to open up the library, and close it again tonight, and basically oversee what could be a very difficult day. I arrived really early this morning hoping to avoid any hassle, and yet as I pulled up into the car park I saw our caretaker David who had set up a picket line outside the library. David is a lovely, lovely, kind, The Fall loving man. We have had endless chats about all sorts of nonsense. Yet I felt sick to the stomach seeing him surrounded by Unison placards this morning.

“You gonna call me a scab?” I shouted as I approached the steps to the library, vainly trying to diffuse the complicated and treacherous feelings I had about myself at that moment, and David smiled at me and asked if he could talk to me for thirty seconds, to which I replied “of course.” He stated his position eloquently, asking me not to work today in support of the strike, in reply to which I mumbled something about not being able to afford to miss a days work (which is true, to be honest). I then opened the shutters, which seemed to take forever, all the time feeling exactly like I do when someone says they are disappointed in me… and I really hate that feeling.

Anyway… the day has gone on and things seem to be alright here. But I still feel dreadful, and torn. On one hand, I believe in my profession and feel that it is important to offer a professional and dedicated service to the people of Worksop. Public libraries cannot afford to give anyone any reason to attack us, so being here is perhaps more important today than ever. On the other hand, any organisation is nothing without the quality of its staff and sometimes those staff need to stick together when management or government piss us about. And regardless of this stupid 85 year rule, if the people who I work with day in and day out feel strongly enough about something to stand outside their place of work just to say “No – this is wrong”, then in my heart of hearts I know where I should be. I feel I have let down people who I respect so much, and so I’ve let myself down today. And regardless of what I try to convince myself of, Worksop could quite easily have have coped without my dedication for just one day. So for this solitary moment I shall be a committed librarian and a scab, but I really hope when the next strike comes around I will have the self-respect to make a stand.

Petros Petros Pisco