The Old Timer (Another Train Observation)

The old man slowly ambled into the lobby of the train station. Like everyone else, he immediately noticed the large group, consisting of mostly women, all wearing red and shook his head. Just like everyone else he knew their cause, knew that it was a worthy one.

But he still didn't support them.

He didn't see the point of them causing so much disruption to everyone else. He knew that they weren't going to get their payrise.

He had seen this before. Seen it many times. Had even been involved in a few protests. He knew how it would end:

If they were lucky the teacher's protest would result in nothing except extensive media coverage. Of course, this wouldn't be enough and more strikes would
follow.

He remembered his own days when he had protested for a payrise. Just like the teachers, he and his colleagues had been determined to keep striking until they were offered a decent payrise. They striked frequently for about 12 months before the company became completely fed up and fired everyone, not just the people striking.

This naturally angered everyone, and all of the former employees took to the streets to protest against their sacking.

They should've just left it to a few angry words over a couple of rounds of beer the night before:

The police were waiting for them the next day. They clashed violently with the police and many of them were arrested and charged with disrupting the peace and resisting arrest as well as many others charges.

The old man, then a young man, had been charged as one of the ringleaders. He had been sent to prison.

When he was released many years later he had learnt his lesson: it wasn't worth protesting for better pay and working conditions, no matter how bad they are.

Once released, he struggled to find employment again. Because of his past, potential employers saw his as a possible trouble maker not worth employing. Even the government was reluctant to pay him welfare, believing that his current situation was self inflicted.

Eventually, though, he was able to find part time work doing clerical duties a couple of days a week. Although he knew he was being severly underpaid he didn't dare to complain about. Being underpaid was still better than not being paid.

His lesson had been learnt.

Now he looked on as the striking teacher excitedly prepared for their protest. He knew what was in store for them and couldn't believe that they couldn't see it for themselves.

"You're wasting your bloody time. And everybody else's." He growled at a nearby teacher with so vividly red that she had obviously died it for the occasion.

She glared at him as he made his way to the platform to wait foe his train.

He didn't care that he had angered her. He knew what her future had in store for her.

He had experienced it himself.

EzyLine Might Be Onto Something

With this commercial of theirs:



I know that ever since I first saw it on TV at least a year ago I mocked it. "The tyranny of pegs"!

The absurdity!

But then tonight I realised that we are in fact under the tyranny of pegs!

It's not quite as absurd as it sounds ... although, that being said, I'm yet to experience the pegs all deciding to strike and just jump out of the container on the way to the washing line to hang out the washing (that would be absurd).

But I still have to listen to the wishes of the pegs if I want my washing to remaining hanging on the line. I can't buy those really cheap wooden pegs that seem to delight in letting your clean washing drop to the ground the minute your back is turned. And if you want your pegs to remain in good working order you have to bring them in out of the elements once your washing is dried (thankfully a demand the washing line doesn't make).

If you do risk incurring the wrath of your pegs by leaving them outside to the elements, you also run the very high risk of nasty spiders moving into them and making them their home and unfit to use to hang your washing (not to mention scary).

Ezyline is right. We are under the tyranny of pegs. So much so that we mock those who point it out to us.