I Hate Unions
Let’s get controversial. After all, it’s almost Christmas.
I’ll start.
I belonged to the teacher’s union for over twenty years and guess what, I wish I’d just flushed the money down the toilet instead of letting ‘them’ have any of it At least then, I’d have had the fun of watching it swirl. As it was, I got nothing.
What a monumental waste. I begrudge and resent every dime they ever coerced from me.
Union rep: worthless.
Union dues: ridiculously high and very little of it went to anything local.
Union representation: it never represented me in any way. I’m embarrassed to admit that I belonged.
Union backing: nonexistent
Union benefits: what are those?
Union loyalty: say what? Mostly, it backed administration.
I bought a lot of carpet and wall-art for headquarters. I resent that, too.
Sometimes I think back and wonder if I’m being too hard on the union here. Then I remember all those thousands of dollars they got from me over the years, and I think of how I got nothing whatsover back from them, and there is that part of me that hopes those overpaid NEA people get their expensive and fairly new cars keyed on a regular basis.
Oh well. What goes around, comes around. It was years ago, now.
In the meantime, take this advice from someone who found out the hard way: Teachers, don’t put much faith in your union. When push comes to shove, it will just push and shove you back.
If I were you, I wouldn’t even join. I wish I never had. Waste, waste, waste.
Please, don’t anyone start in on me about contracts or insurance or anything like that. School districts would do better to negotiate amongst themselves. The NEA is nothing but a racket. A successful, money-making racket.
Mamacita, Scheiss WeeklyHome Alone
I had never lost a key in my life. Never “laid them down somewhere” or “left them somewhere” or “forgot to pick them up.” I always knew where my keys were at all times because I am a person who, if I don’t have special spots for certain items, I’ll never find them. Keys, eyeglasses, purse. . . I always know where they are.
Well, there was that one time I put my purse on top of the car and remembered it ten miles from the house. Thank goodness for honest people who find purses on the side of the road and look inside for a phone number and call it and don’t laugh until you’re well gone and can’t hear. But that was a long time ago. I’ve been years without losing keys. Years.
I am no spring chicken, so that’s a long time without losing keys.
Therefore, I suppose it was a matter of time.
My keys disappeared last summer and I still haven’t found them. Somewhere, someone has access to my house, my car, my mailbox, my Marsh discounts, and my prescriptions. Not to mention that he/she can lock and unlock my car from across a crowded room.
The thing is, those keys have to be in this house somewhere. I got home, didn’t I?
Therefore, theoretically, the keys are not lost. They are just playful, and hiding.
Whatever, today I gave up, and used my sweet MIL’s Christmas gift to buy a new set. I can now press a button and figure out which of those ten thousand maroon vehicles is mine open my car’s doors from across the lot without having to set down my bag of groceries to fumble in my pocket for the loose spare key.
You know what this means, of course. In a day or two, the original set of keys will show up. That will be good, because we can always use a spare set. I only wish the remote came with a buzzer. Remember those ‘clapper’ commercials? Yeah, like that.
A sugar-free ice cream bar is calling my name. I must answer lest it be heard and devoured by someone other than me. Oh wait, I’m home alone.
Oh yeah.
