Monday, May 29, 2006
Panic in the streets of Dublin...
mydaysasawageslave.com
In the '80's there was panic in the streets of Dublin, Dundee, Humberside...
and Dublin was an honoree 'grim up north' provincial town.
There was fuck all money to be had here so everyone headed off to London and New York to work on building sites.
So for a few months I was a had a go at labouring. I learnt fast to pick up a brush and carry it around all day. If anyone walked by I'd start sweeping, otherwise, just try and hide out in far corners of the site passing the day getting stoned. It beat working.
I used to get the sack quite a lot, usually whenever I was asked to do a bit of heavy lifting work. I'd whinge about having a hernia and the like but there was always an eager 'Westie' fresh off the boat with a red neck, waiting to take your place, who'd lift bags of cement for fun.
So I'd be paid off early that day and back home in bed by lunchtime.
They used to pick a labourer to be in charge of all the other labourers so the foreman wouldn't have to bother his arse getting to know us and could just deal with him directly. He was usually the most vocal of the 'Westies'.
He was called the Ganger.
A good Ganger knew he was one of the lads, was glad of the extra few quid and wanting an easy life would keep things running smoothly. Dealing with any issues that came up. Covering for you if you had to piss off for a bit / sign on / sleep off a hangover etc.
Because of this you would also do that bit extra if he was getting grief and had to get something finished by the end of the day and all that.
A bad Ganger was like an uncle Tom. Called anyone who wasn't a labourer Boss to their face and wanker to their back. Would bully and cajole younger fellas who never knew him as an equal and get them to do his job for him.
He would break off conversation mid sentence whenever a foreman or suit would come on site, to be seen to loudly reprimand or give sound advice on how a job should be done correctly. Even if you had been doing it to his specific orders.
He was the bosses 'gombeen' man when the boss was in earshot. The loudest fucker on the site. But in the pub or canteen he was 'one of the lads'.
In short he was a cunt.
Dublin is now like London in the 80's.
Now I am having a go at being a 'creative' in an agency. I thought it would beat working.
But it feels like I am back on the sites and the Ganger is alive and well. He is now in marketing. And design. And probably every other white collar wageslave, cubicle hell that passes for a job out there nowadays.
And I am surrounded by them.
One of these days I expect i'll be paid off and home in bed by lunchtime.
Wonder if the same thing happened in Dundee and Humberside?
In the '80's there was panic in the streets of Dublin, Dundee, Humberside...
and Dublin was an honoree 'grim up north' provincial town.
There was fuck all money to be had here so everyone headed off to London and New York to work on building sites.
So for a few months I was a had a go at labouring. I learnt fast to pick up a brush and carry it around all day. If anyone walked by I'd start sweeping, otherwise, just try and hide out in far corners of the site passing the day getting stoned. It beat working.
I used to get the sack quite a lot, usually whenever I was asked to do a bit of heavy lifting work. I'd whinge about having a hernia and the like but there was always an eager 'Westie' fresh off the boat with a red neck, waiting to take your place, who'd lift bags of cement for fun.
So I'd be paid off early that day and back home in bed by lunchtime.
They used to pick a labourer to be in charge of all the other labourers so the foreman wouldn't have to bother his arse getting to know us and could just deal with him directly. He was usually the most vocal of the 'Westies'.
He was called the Ganger.
A good Ganger knew he was one of the lads, was glad of the extra few quid and wanting an easy life would keep things running smoothly. Dealing with any issues that came up. Covering for you if you had to piss off for a bit / sign on / sleep off a hangover etc.
Because of this you would also do that bit extra if he was getting grief and had to get something finished by the end of the day and all that.
A bad Ganger was like an uncle Tom. Called anyone who wasn't a labourer Boss to their face and wanker to their back. Would bully and cajole younger fellas who never knew him as an equal and get them to do his job for him.
He would break off conversation mid sentence whenever a foreman or suit would come on site, to be seen to loudly reprimand or give sound advice on how a job should be done correctly. Even if you had been doing it to his specific orders.
He was the bosses 'gombeen' man when the boss was in earshot. The loudest fucker on the site. But in the pub or canteen he was 'one of the lads'.
In short he was a cunt.
Dublin is now like London in the 80's.
Now I am having a go at being a 'creative' in an agency. I thought it would beat working.
But it feels like I am back on the sites and the Ganger is alive and well. He is now in marketing. And design. And probably every other white collar wageslave, cubicle hell that passes for a job out there nowadays.
And I am surrounded by them.
One of these days I expect i'll be paid off and home in bed by lunchtime.
Wonder if the same thing happened in Dundee and Humberside?
# posted by mydaysasawageslave @ 6:02 AM 
