Supermarket strike offers lessons in compassion

Sue Clark

“Aren’t they cute,” I commented as the clerk checked my groceries.

“They look so young.”

He didn’t say anything, so I persisted. “I’ve never seen you guys

training anyone before.”

“They’re scabs,” he said. “We’re probably going to strike.”

He looked worried.

“So those guys aren’t too popular?”

“You could say that.”

My first thought was of my own forthcoming inconvenience. I went

back into the store and stocked up on items I figured would not be

easily found in the 7-11 or Trader Joe’s, such as my Smart Ones

Deluxe Diet Pizzas. (As I write, I’m down to one.) It was one of

those worthy problems we have in Newport-Mesa.

I’ve seen both sides of a picket line. Twenty years ago, I was

newly married with a big mortgage on a house in Newport Heights. I

was a school counselor, on teachers’ salary scale, and considered

“quasi-administrative.” Instead of walking out with the teachers, I

sided with administration. I did it to suck up to the management and

to save money. Philosophy had nothing to do with it.

I wish I hadn’t. In an effort to save a few hundred dollars, I

crossed my fellow teachers’ picket line. In some cases, the

friendships I lost that week were gone for good. Memories stretch a

long way in a strike. My motive was financial fear, yet my decision

proved costly. I didn’t get any respect from management, either, for

that matter. I think they knew I stayed for the money.

A few days after the market strike began, I was talking with my

friend Marion at work. “I will never cross a picket line, “ she

declared.

Being the follower I sometimes am, I said, “Neither will I.”

Oddly, just saying that made me feel good. But I really had no idea

what the market strike was about; I hadn’t read up on the issues. I

often blindly take a side without any information.

The next day, I decided to go to the pickets and talk to them. I

picked up a bag of chips and some diet soda (I guessed correctly that

the women would like diet) and walked over to my local market. I

handed a young picket the food and told them it was for them, and

that I’d like to hear their take on the strike.

The response from the pickets was astonishment. They couldn’t

believe someone would bring them food. One of them almost started

crying. I told them I would never break a picket line (my new

philosophy of one day), but that I wanted more information. One of

the meat cutters handed me a contract and went over some of the

points with me. He was still shocked that I’d brought food.

Management was planning to eradicate his job and replace fresh

meat with packaged items containing preservatives. (He naturally was

most interested in this point.) It also looked as though new hires

would have a lower wage structure and certain types of overtime

would be disallowed. More non-union workers would be able to work at

the markets -- eliminating or reducing some union positions.

I waffled over the insurance portion. I pay $138 a month to cover

my daughter and me for medical and dental costs. However, I make a

lot more than the workers at my local markets. I was shocked to see

that many other market workers’ insurance benefits would be costing

up to twice as much, including preventative care and prescription

drug benefits. There would be a cap on chemotherapy, for example.

I mulled over these facts. I was of two minds, as usual. I myself

have a weekly shot of a mild chemotherapy drug for rheumatoid

arthritis. I pay $15 per shot. Having just received my first bill, I

realize that my insurance is critical in my fight against this

disease. If I worked at one of these markets, I don’t think I could

afford to have rheumatoid arthritis. I certainly couldn’t afford to

live in Newport Heights.

There are so many sides to this strike. I know one woman who works

at Stater Bros. who says she disagrees with the union. And it’s true

that I’ve only read the union’s take on this contract. I’d like to

read what management says, too. But that’s not the point.

How would you like to be walking a picket line, hearing drivers

yelling obscenities at you, and looking at your second week without a

paycheck? I’d be scared. Would you? Even if you wanted to be a scab

like I was, you wouldn’t be allowed to be. Would this be a

frightening Halloween for you and your family?

Parents, I don’t really care what your view of the strike is. I’m

not sure what mine is. But use this opportunity. Take your kids to

bring the pickets some chips, doughnuts or sodas. Then listen to them

for a few minutes. You don’t have to agree with them. You may very

well not.

As Steve Smith says (he makes good points sometimes), “turn off

the TV” and show your children economics in action. Let them look

over the contract and talk about it with them. Get the management’s

information, too.

I guarantee that you and your children will not forget the looks

on those strikers’ faces as they see you offering to break bread (or

chips) together and to simply listen. It is a lesson in compassion.

Cost: $3.50. Living proof of the American right to protest:

priceless.

* EDITOR’S NOTE: Sue Clark is a Newport Beach resident.