Dear Mr. Rachlis, Sir,
I must inform you that I am beginning to feel threatened by your left-wing, socialist agenda for the following reason: the pot contains a limited amount of money and I want my share which should be much greater than those other folks who you appear to be assigning almost human-like qualities to. And I will fight to the death for it. I want to purchase the finer things in life. I learn more, I earn more, therefore I am entitled to consume more. Comprende, amigo?
I was even one of THEM as I worked janitorial, ditch-digging, and security guard jobs, but then pulled myself up by my bootstraps with the help of my middle-class parents in Marin County as I struggled to make something of myself. It was hard growing up. I remember one night as clearly as if it were yesterday, when my parents couldn’t afford to put steak on the dinner table. We almost died.
So I made something of myself because I decided I didn’t like those dirty jobs and graveyard shifts and the possibility of no steak on the dinner table. Working those jobs is a choice, so one day, I chose not to. Sitting in a bank in a security guard uniform with no gun didn’t seem like a good gig, so I moved on. Others can simply do the same. Just put down the broom or shovel or rent-a-cop uniform and pick up and read a big fat text book of knowledge and regurgitate when requested to do so and you’ll be fine. It is that simple! And then you will not even need to be unionized because you will now be highly valued and irreplaceable.
I don’t need union muscle because I have advanced, educated, cerebral matter. Yet, when I told my superiors I had a concern, they reflexively told me to go to my union. Now that’s dehumanizing. Unlike the less educated folks you cited, I have the language and analytical prowess to engage in dialogue with my employer, so I have no use for unions. In summary, I am more evolved. I now walk upright because my job no longer hurts my back.
I am my superiors’ intellectual equal or greater than. And my hands are now soft and fleshy like theirs, as the calluses from digging ditches have long since vanished. So I chuckled and commented to my superior “Surely you jest. I’m not one of them. Remember? I’m educated. I’m one of you. We’re cool, right?”
I tried to make them understand I am one of them-we are on the same evolutionary plane, but the union-manufactured barrier was too great for us to penetrate. Meeting over. I even looked down at my legs to make sure I wasn’t wearing my old Ben Davis work pants. Why was I being treated as an inferior? Because I was in a union. It didn’t matter that it was a “professional” union I was part of. I could dress like our hired guns-I believe my dues are going directly to Mr. Armani. But I might as well be part of the uncouth Purple Mass Of Socialism. Union is union, regardless of the flavor.
Unions create a relationship with my employer that is adversarial in nature. Because of unionism, we do not even eat at the same lunch table or drink from the same water fountains. If not for unions, my bosses would invite my wife and I to their homes for dinner or for a night at the opera. I am one of them, not one of those other lesser dirty folks you have such an affinity for, Mr. Rachlis. In summary, unions promote segregation, so must be banned.
Now if you want to give up some of your compensation for the lesser folk, by all means do so, but I am fighting for every cent I can get my hands on.
Respectfully (Tongue in cheek),