Anyway, for a long time every three years there was a new contract. I remember a couple of times as young teen toiling at the old barn, the Teamsters business agent would come by the Shop with the master contract to 'negotiate' it with Grandpa Joe. You know, to discuss if there were any particulars peculiar to Dad's job which the master contract either didn't touch or was vague about. For Joe and the agent I think it was simply a reason to kill an hour as they usually just looked over a few points and then shot the breeze; even Pops would join in here and there, just talking. There was never a problem of course.
But what great fun there could have been if there had been issues. Can you imagine the business agent ordering William Cosgriff to go on strike against Joe? Could you see me old Pops walking a one man picket line outside the old barn, 'Joe Cosgriff UNFAIR!' being proclaimed from the sign he'd carry. Or maybe Dad chanting between himself, 'What do I want? FAIR WAGES! When do I want them? NOW!' We could have even gotten him an old oil drum to light a fire in to warm himself if it were winter.
And what about poor me? Do I cross the picket line to work for the man who was paying me, or respect my father and stay home in sympathy? Oh, it would have been the latter, but, sadly, out of a reason to be lazy rather than support a strike, all under the guise of supporting me Dad. What could be better?
It never would have happened. Yet, the possibilities and images make me chuckle.
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