26 May 2010
A couple of commentators to last night's posting have asked me if I have ever had any sort of normal job. Now I am not so sure what is all that abnormal about driving whores around a city and getting the odd leg-over thrown in as a tip, but I sort of take their point: they mean have I ever been a peon?
Of course I have! I left school just before my fifteenth birthday and went to work in a yard helping to pack bales of cotton onto lorries. I smiled at a joke on my first day and the chargehand told the foreman that I was skiver. He could see it in my fucking eyes, so he said, and besides you don't go to work to bloody well smile. Do that and you aren't working so I was sent to help drag a massive bale across the rain sleeked yard just to wipe the smile off my face..
I then spent the next decade or so as a projectionist, stage hand, club doorman - you name it and I did it. Bastard jobs came and went along with the three redundancy notices that I received that were all followed by spells on the dole. I also learned that if work is tedious, dirty and occasionally dangerous, then the union represented satisfaction, both intellectually and emotionally. Thanks to being a union activist I could do over the man, and pay him back in his own coin by giving him some of the grief that he and his breed had given me.
So, yeah, I have done my hours and hated every single one of them. I prefer the company of porn merchants and the likes of Ash and Svetlana, the two delightful little slappers that I introduced you to yesterday, because they do not sit there dropping dandruff onto the collars of their cheap suits, muttering through a fug of halitosis that they are there to manage and I am there to work and when they want my opinion they will ask for it.