I arrive at the front door w/ a box of magazines under my left arm, a cup of coffee in my right hand, and a 3-pound Motorola Rat Patrol cell phone on my hip that's dragging down my pants.
2/
As I approach the door, a surly-looking guy steps into my way with a dolly.
Me: Uh, good morning.
Surly Guy: You can't bring that in here yourself. <points at magazine box>
Me: ????
SG: Put it on the dolly. We need to take it to the loading dock.
3/
His tone of voice indicates I'm going to lose this argument, so I comply. I feel like a complete sap as we dolly a 10-lb. box around the entire building to the back. 4/
Finally we get to the booth. I'm late, my boss is cranky, and I'm wondering what the hell is going on. Am I supposed to tip him? (Coming from a right-to-work state, I was naive to the concept that he probably earned three or four times what I did.) 5/
I knew about unions from history class and the news, but this was my first encounter in the wild. Suffice it to say, I wasn't impressed.
This was about as helpful a service as the guys who wash your windshield in NYC with a bucket of dirty water at a stoplight. 6/
What does this have to do with the surly proponents of #PROAct? It's precisely the same kind of help:
Raw force.
Don't ask questions.
Just put your damn box on the dolly.
7/
Except they're asking us to put our *jobs* on the dolly and to trust that they have our best interest in mind.
Well, I won't comply. And I don't trust them one bit.