Welcome to the union... closed shops and squashed tomatoes!

THE autumn conference season has just finished and while trying to listen to the weird online versions, my thoughts again returned to my early days as a site engineer.

I had only been in the job a few weeks when I found the trade union rep standing by my desk. The question I did not expect was if I belonged to the union.

He told me all of my colleagues belonged, and they had assumed I was a member. He suggested I might like to join and offered a form for me to complete. My initial reluctance was hardly appreciated so I offered to think about it and let him know in a day or two.

My reluctance was caused by information gained from my stepfather who worked in the print industry, which was a trade union closed shop. Indeed, when I was about 14, he asked if I wanted to be an apprentice in the print. Apparently, the union decided who was started as an apprentice and he offered to put my name down for consideration.

I was not interested in the job, neither was I interested in joining a trade union.

My clear memory was of the time when my stepfather had to go on strike. He was required to join a march to the town centre and returned home covered in squashed tomatoes! Apparently, spectators had raided the greengrocer’s shop front to find their ammunition.

However, back in my office it was explained to me that my work colleagues were hardly best pleased that I was happy to take advantage of union-negotiated pay rises without contributing to union funds.

Clearly, I was not to gain any popularity by my “anti” approach, so I took the line of least resistance and I joined. I asked about meeting dates and said if I had to be a member I was going to see how the union was run.

I attended the next meeting but, to my surprise, found I was the only one present from my office!

When back at the office, I asked why I had been on my own, I was told that my membership was sufficient, I was not expected to contribute any more than that.

Of course, my chosen regular attendance thereafter meant I did get interested and started to have an opinion on some issues that I thought were relevant to my job in the drawing office and on site. Most members that attended did not seem to have quite as much as me to say and I was eventually to find out why.

I had been a member for some three years when I was invited to be a delegate at the union annual conference which was to be held in Margate the following year. A week at the seaside in May, all expenses paid seemed like a bit of fun, and I did eventually find myself in a flat at Margate with senior management and our one-year-old son for a week.

What I did not expect was to become apparent on the Monday morning at the start on the conference. There were more than a thousand delegates but, thankfully, I had no items on the order paper and therefore no expectancy to have to make a speech.

But this experience I found fantastic. I listened, I learnt a lot, and determined I wanted to attend again and see if I could handle making a speech to a packed auditorium.

I had now got the bug, attending a few more conferences thereafter. One can progress up the hierarchy of the union but that was not for me. After a few years, I opted to concentrate on my career and left the conference scene.

I did make that conference speech which, after the initial nerves, was one of the most exhilarating things I have ever done.

He was required to join a march to the town centre and returned home covered in squashed tomatoes.