Just because it's the weekend doesn't mean I'm not on strike

It would be going too far to say that being on strike is kind of a profession of its own, but it certainly is something I have to think--and talk--about seven days a week. Much as being a librarian means a social life consumed by explaining what librarians actually do, being on strike means a social life consumed by talking about the strike. For instance, no, it is not a holiday and I am not "enjoying the break," in spite of what a couple of my in-laws have said, no doubt trying to cheer me up. No, there is no end in sight. Yes, I am doing picket duty. (And, over at city hall, so are other folks with university degrees and professional designations. It's not just the garbage collectors who are out, in spite of what some people seem to think.) And yes, for the record, I am even more willing than usual to let someone else buy this round.

Yesterday I ran into an old friend who used to work for the CBC. He remembers being on strike, and I was grateful for his sympathy. Last week another friend shared his horror stories about a strike on campus, where frat boys ran the picket lines with their cars. Luckily for us, I don't think anyone has physically threatened any library workers yet. And in my tiny social circle no one has told me (yet) that we're lazy bums and should just get back to work. (Although we do get that from some of the public, at least from the types who seem to be spoiling for a fight, and apparently think that library workers, being mostly female and presumably more brainy than brawny, are an easy target. I don't know if they try this with any of the City outside workers.)

The truth is, of course, that almost everyone who's involved with the strike is pretty much powerless. There are hundreds of us on the picket lines, and many, many thousands of residents and visitors who are being affected. But only a handful of people can actually end this.

I know I'm thinking about the strike tonight. I hope they are too.