When I first came to this campus two years ago, I was intimidated by all the horn-rimmed, waif-ish intellectuals sucking down Lucky Strikes in their black tights and parkas in the doorway to Clemens.
Whenever I would find myself in the elevator with one of them, I knew it was best to simply watch the digital red numbers as they showed our painfully slow progression from floor to floor. I learned quickly that this peculiar breed of animal liked to project a posture of jaded boredom, and despised nothing more than to have that disrupted.
But shortly after my arrival here, I learned there were a few faces at UB that I could always trust to return a smile in the halls.
Whenever I entered Clemens and there was a Class Act cleaning service employee nearby, he or she not only returned my "Hello," but actually held the door open for me. I'll take that over a lungful of smoke blown in my face any day. If everyone here were as friendly as the people I've met from Class Act, I would be much happier getting out of bed in the morning.
That's why, when The Spectrum started addressing UB's phasing out of union custodians and their replacement with Class Act workers, I was itching to ditch the role of objective journalist.
Growing up, my father was a steelworker. Or at least he was until the last plant in town, Roblin Steel, closed down. After that, he went from factory to factory doing different kinds of work until each closed its doors, one by one.
Though his place of work changed time after time, one thing didn't - he was always a union man. I can't remember a time when I didn't understand the importance of that.
About 10 years ago, after almost all the factories in Erie and Niagara Counties had relocated to other places, my father took a civil service exam and obtained the most stable work he's ever had. He became a union custodian at a junior high school.
It was such a relief to see my dad come home each night, still exhausted, but no longer covered head to toe (and, I could only imagine, inside and out) in ceramic powder or chemicals. Though he often still works double shifts, he no longer is forced to work 18-hour days or contend with swing-shifts on a regular basis. He no longer has to spend his days in deplorable conditions or swinging a sledgehammer non-stop.
My family and I no longer had to worry that my father would show up to work and find the gates locked, the company's way of letting its employees know that their job was no longer theirs, but someone else's - someone who had no choice but to work for pennies a day somewhere else.
So, when the controversy surrounding the hiring of Class Act workers heated up, I got mad. But I couldn't decide whom to be mad at.
Union workers were pointing fingers, not at Class Act itself, but at its employees, saying that they were more likely to steal than those in the union. The Spectrum printed an article saying that a Class Act cleaner had been hired even though he had left a halfway house during a sentence for a narcotics conviction.
An editorial in this paper asserted that "there is nothing wrong with hiring ex-convicts under some circumstances, but providing them with keys to rooms, unsupervised throughout the night, is not the safest environment."
While I agree that union labor is always the way to go, I realize that the protections they put in place are there because of the shady practices of the employers throughout history, not the practices of their employees. Why does the championing of labor unions have to include unproven accusations of other blue-collar workers?
It was irresponsible of this paper to suggest that the presence of Class Act workers made this school an unsafe place. The focus should not have been on the individuals who were forced to take jobs with a company who does not pay them properly, screen them properly or provide proper benefits.
Knowing what we all know goes on in places like Mexico, when corporations operate without enforced standards of ethical practice, and thinking about some of the things they get away with here, even when there are systems in place to keep them honest, it scares me to think of what it must be like for those working without the support of a union.
However, knowing what it is like to try to find a job of decent quality in this town, I understand Class Act employees' hesitation to unionize.
When I hear that someone tries to start a new life after prison with a job at UB, you'll have to forgive me if my first reaction is not fear that I may someday share an elevator with him or her. My only sorrow is that their new life will be one without the decency a union job can provide.
Photo: Courtesy of Laron Fomby
