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By David J. Hussey.
Nobody really knew who started it. I think it was the new chap in the soft toys section.
Another possibility was that the real trouble was at the other end of the warehouse, which, because of its vast size, made it well out of my jurisdiction.
Anyway. It started somewhere and couldn't have come at a worst time; at the end of the year when we are all working like mad, sorting, checking and packing; with unlimited overtime, and all holidays cancelled for the duration.
The word soon got around that we were overworked and underpaid.
That we shouldn't have to strive continuously for a 'living wage'.
The more moderate of us argued that it only happened at this time of the year when demand increased a hundred fold.
"Why", asked some people, "didn't 'the boss' get more staff to help".
Others, who were the more thinking types, pointed out that there weren't many of us left and that modern thinking was that we didn't exist at all.
"Typical!" shouted the trouble-makers. "As long as the work is done, nobody thinks of how it all happens."
The unrest snowballed - an apt phrase at this time of year - and before long there were little 'tea-break' meetings being held until, eventually, most of the workforce were muttering to themselves about everything.
Working conditions for instance could be improved. The place was too cold (or too hot), the lighting was too dim (or too bright) the canteen didn't serve suitable food, and not enough of it anyway. Transport to work was poor - and anyone who had the temerity to say that they had heard that most workers outside our group didn't get transported to work at all, was shouted down as 'reactionary', (not that we knew what that meant).
Things went from bad to worse until it was decided by the more militant that we should form a union.
The older members of the staff were shocked! "Nothing like this," they said, "had ever happened before."
"Well, it's about time", said others, "that we came into line with 'our brothers' outside".
I must admit that although there was a lot of ill feeling, stirred up by the more militant members, there was also sympathy with the necessary work that just had to be done - the lists that had to be checked, the sorting of the various items and decisions to be made about 'substitutes'. It seemed to go on and on. But it was like this every year and we had, by and large, got used to it and the unrest took most of us by surprise.
We wondered if it was a 'virus' that had affected some of the staff. We noticed that a number, who worked on the new computer systems had been suffering.
"And that's another thing!" grumbled the trouble makers, "we're not being paid for all this new technology that we have to absorb."
I must say that many of us prefered the old ways of doing our work and the new systems seemed to promote more misunderstanding.
The senior staff members decided to ask for a meeting with 'the boss' and this was arranged.
We all assembled in a new part of the warehouse. Most of us had never realised before the extent of the storage system. The racks of toys and gifts seemed to go on forever but eventually we came to the new area where we all jostled for space to see 'the boss' as he arrived. It was almost a year since he had last been here.
He, obviously, had not embraced new technology judging by the sounds outside as his transport arrived.
All the muttering and ill feeling just faded away, as this jolly old man with his white beard and red tunic came into the meeting and shortly afterwards we all went whistling cheerfully back to work like the good little elves that we were.
