Page 106 of Rich and Bossy

They’re going to make it look like it’s coming from me. Even if it’s not. Even if I object.

I want to warn her, but fuck. I don’t even know if it’s legal at this point for me to talk to her, now that they’ve officially filed all the collective bargaining shit.

I just hope she doesn’t think I did this. That I lied on purpose in that condo to get back at her for misleading me.

CHAPTER 30

Hazel

The weirdest thingabout all of this is having to go to work in the middle of it. Like right now, driving in to start my normal shift. Having to try to do my job with everyone staring nonstop, including management. I need to be here for everybody else, to show them I’m not intimidated, and they shouldn’t be either. I don’t want them to think I have some big head like I’m a celebrity or something since I’ve been on national news.

I will gladly pass that baton to someone else the second I can.

Besides, I do want to keep my job. It also feels kind of nice, knowing Paxton is trying to minimize any pushback. That he actually wants to do the right thing for his workers.

When all is said and done, I still need a place to work while I finish up my degree. I’m not like Campbell, turning this kind of thing into my career. That would be awesome. It’s what I want eventually, but right now, my heart is still with Rapid and my friends here. I will always have a soft spot for this place. It started out amazing. They’ve just grown so fast.

I always thought maybe I could move up to a position in HR, at corporate here, but now, I really do think maybe I could do something like Campbell. Maybe it’d be more meaningful.

There’s no pretending my stomach isn’t in knots, tightening with each turn of the wheels as I pull past all the media vans and trucks into the campus parking lot. It’s like a small city here, and once again I’m reminded of how many lives are being affected. There are so many of us, and so many families behind each employee.

When I think of them, it’s easier to continue the drive down the long, winding entrance road, past the security gate with a flash of my badge. One of the truck drivers is going in the other direction, and I recognize him after having a discussion about the union a couple of days ago. He was somewhat on the fence, nervous because his oldest just got accepted to his dream college with partial scholarships, which of course means a lot of bills for Mom and Dad. He doesn’t want his son to have any student loans. I hate to think anybody would have to weigh their options like that. They all have so much at stake, which makes it so meaningful when they tell me they’re leaning our way.

But by the time we finished talking, it seemed like he felt a lot better about what we’re doing. I knew there were some employees who would be risking a lot, but it seems like everyone is. Every single person I talk to.

Campbell warned me about it. A lot of the resistance we’re facing or could possibly face in the future stems from misinformation, or even a complete lack of understanding. That union-busting meeting didn’t help things either, which is exactly why they did it.

I don’t even know the credentials of the guy who did it, if any of his data could be confirmed, but you put someone in a familiar outfit who talks like a manager in front of people and they tend to buy the story, no matter what.

We’ve done a fantastic job to keep politics out of the whole thing, and I’m sure Paxton has something to do with it. Campbell said it would be a top priority for their plan of attack.If they can identify our movement with a particular political party, they can get a lot of people in the opposite party to dismiss it immediately. They don’t want to be aligned with anything that might suggest they’re involved with it.

It sucks, really. I don’t care about politics. Neither does Campbell. We just care about workers and how they’re treated. We’ve said from the beginning, every time it’s asked, we will never endorse any political candidates. Anyone is welcome to join. We want anyone who wants more rights and better work conditions, that’s all.

The only way to combat most of this is education, reaching out and starting from square one as if the person I’m speaking to has never so much as heard of a union. That’s why it’s such a grind. I have to make time for every single individual worker and answer all their questions, listen to their unique situation. And I really love doing it, getting to know people and the challenges they’re facing. Almost every person I talk to says something like, “I never knew that. I didn’t know that’s what a union does, I thought they were just bad and got donations for politicians. Corruption everywhere.”

I swear, I have to grind my teeth every time I hear it. Have there been corrupt unions in the past? Yes. But that’s not supposed to be what they do.

That’s what management does. If they divide everyone, they crush any opposition and then they can dominate the working conditions. Workers have no idea how much power they have if they can push aside some differences on things that have nothing to do with the workplace and join forces to negotiate and bargain. Our labor is the most valuable thing we have, it’s what the company wants us for, and they want it for as cheap as possible. It’s our job to push back on that, and we can’t do it alone, or they’ll just replace that single person. They can’t replace us all at once though.

There’s a group of people in the parking lot, lingering by their cars when I pull into an empty spot. They exchange looks before heading towards me. It’s only their smiles, and the fact that one of them is holding a cup of coffee extended in my direction, that give me the courage to step out. They’re on my side. They’re not here to attack me.

Cheryl is one of them. “You were awesome on TV last night.” She steps aside so Jenny can hand me my coffee.

“Yeah, well, any of you are welcome to take my place at any time.” I laugh nervously.

They laugh too, then shake their heads. “No thank you,” says Jenny. “You’re doing a good job for us.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” I murmur. I hold up the coffee and try to impress upon them that they don’t need to cater to me.

“We figured you’d need it after all the running around you’ve been doing, plus work. People see that. People know.” Jenny holds up her own cup, grinning. “I’m exhausted, and all I did was watch you on there.”

She’s not wrong about me being exhausted. And I’m not the only one, either—Campbell admitted last night she needed to sleep while I was at work. She’s been up for like seventy-two straight hours.

I know she misses her family, her husband and baby. Hell, I’m sure she misses her work at her union too. She’s never admitted that to me. It’s not like we’re close friends or anything, and I wouldn’t ask. Still, there are times when she steps aside to have a private moment on the phone and I know she’s talking to them. I see the little smile she wears, the sort of smile she tries to bite back but can’t suppress.

I know that smile. I know what it’s like to feel a little flutter of excitement when that special person is on the other end of the phone, when I’ve been thinking about them and how they’ve been thinking about me, too.

It wasn’t until recently, but I get it now. I know what it’s like to miss somebody—and it’s only been a week for me. Granted we aren’t married either, so maybe I get like five percent of what she’s feeling, but bottom line, I can still relate.

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