Friday, 28 May 2010

Where Are The Unions When You Need Them?

God, I'm depressed. Not only is it Friday, which means The Boss is here almost all day for his surgery and a seemingly-endless series of largely pointless meetings; but I have just worked out that, if I am one of the lowest-paid members of staff on the whole HOC* payroll, than that must mean that Greg is being paid more than me.

He's half my age, and a f*ckwit - a loveable one, admittedly, but I still have to open all his supposedly-finished letters when he's not looking and vet them before I take them to the post.

This is a precautionary measure, brought in after last year's debacle when Greg libelled the LibDem councillor, and then gave the poor man's home address to our most violent constituent. And yet Greg is worth more than me? I think I may have to go on strike.

I'm a little reluctant to risk direct action, given that there is a recession on - but that doesn't seem to be stopping the BA staff and Unite, so I phone Martin, and ask him if the union will support me with a mass walk-out if I do strike for a decent wage.

The answer's not exactly good news. While he'll apparently be behind me "100% in spirit," Martin asks if I realise that the union has no authority over individual MPs as they are, in effect, all separate small businesses? I say that I have obviously been had under the Trades Descriptions Act, and ask him exactly what I've been paying my subs all these years for.

He seems oddly reluctant to answer this question and, when he says that, as The Boss is a left-wing socialist, I surely don't need the union to persuade him to do the right thing anyway, I admit defeat. Honestly - how can a union rep be so bloody naive?

The only highlight of the day is another email from Johnny Hunter, even though he sounds very unimpressed with my job. So am I at the moment, but I would like him to pretend that my working life is slightly more significant in the scheme of things.

I suppose working for an MP isn't ever likely to sound very impressive to an International Director of a Global Oil Company - I do like that phrase, hence the capital letters. Johnny probably has hundreds of MPs in his pocket, metaphorically-speaking of course.

It's just a shame that The Boss is unlikely to be powerful enough to merit being one of them, otherwise maybe Johnny might be able to use his influence to get me a pay-rise. After all, it doesn't exactly look as if the union's going to be any bloody help.

*HOC - House of Commons.


  1. If you have a job description, you could always Work To Rule.

    The last few jobs I've had, the job description was a fairy tale...the unhappy ending being that clause 'and anything else required by the management'. Which explained the endless tea runs and emergency massages.

  2. * fully dressed, shoulder emergency massages.

    Mind you, I'd have been paid more had I really worked in the sex industry...I wonder if at 40 it's not to late for a career U-turn?

  3. Found an MP in own pocket the other day. Laws his name was. Nice chap and just the right size for pocket occupancy.

    May feed him crumbs from a poor man's table.