"There once was a union maid, she never was afraid"

That's right, folks! Only a few short few months have passed since one of my last posts contained the statement "I am not much of a worker anymore," and now. Now, I am not only a worker, but I am a worker for The Workers. That's right, and you can't scare me. I'm stickin' to the Union. Because my comrade Ernie told the story earlier, I'll go light on it here. I was kissed with the claw end of a 16oz hammer while setting up the union hall for our campaign kick-off. I was pretty excited to see the event come off since I had spent weeks organizing the evening. Instead of listening to a fiery speech by the president of the best union in all the land, Andy Stern, I sat in the Emergicenter waiting area with a frozen water bottle on my forehead for a couple of hours. By the time I got to see the kind doctor-man, he had to re-open my head wound.

At any rate, the point of my brief entry here is to let you know that I am working hard on behalf of all workers who ever worked and continue to work. I still work in an office and I still have lots of office supplies all around, I still have cigarette breaks, I work with a bunch of other social justice-minded gaywads, and I feel like my toiling finally means something. There is not a cascade of free cheese-flavored snacks, nor unlimited cereal. There is, instead, a sense that what I do actually means something, that my coworkers don't compete with me, that my director respects me, and that the reason that people still need to do this work is because there are a lot of shitty jerky assholes out there and most often, they have a lot of people working for them.

More later!