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Italiano (Italian)
I soon became convinced that traveling by working is no picnic. And maybe it’s not traveling either.
In theory, the main reason for my presence would be to improve my English. There were also English people in the factory, but pace and noise did not help dialogue. Also because most were unschooled and had very chewed up and unintelligible speech. In addition, some people did not see us so well since, although we performed the same menial tasks, we were the second-class workers and were also paid less.
Margaret Thatcher’s legacy was being felt. The former prime minister had significantly reduced workers’ rights. This is discussed in this article. One lady told us that because she could not afford a house, she lived in a roulette parked beside the entrance to the plant. Her personal (thus not national collective) contract provided for something like 5-6 vacation days a year.
For the featured photo, the artificial intelligence failed to create what was requested. It just didn’t think it was possible. I had requested an image in which giant dressed hens could be seen boxing little naked men. It was the image that my alienated colleague in the previous article had in his head.
Where it rains chickens is traveling working?
In that grayness a very pretty red-haired girl stood out. I was trying to get into the chicken catcher’s box next to hers to try to talk a little.
The department head used to tease all the women. In particular he would hold the legs of a chicken between his legs and then bang the head of the same chicken on the backsides of the female workers. Particularly the young ones and of course especially with the redhead; so soon he was picking on me.
One day he didn’t just move me from station to station every time I approached her, but he gave me punitive break shifts to say the least. In the 10, sometimes 12 hours we worked, we were entitled to 2 breaks, one of half an hour and one of 15 minutes, and they were given to us by him.
Given our meager packed lunch, it was important to have the break before 4:00 pm closing time of the café. Of course also that the 2 breaks were far enough apart. That day he gave me the first break at 4:15 p.m. and returned after half an hour, the second break at 5:00 p.m.
Me union rookie
I went to complain to my boss’s superior, but my English at the time was too poor for an effective labor dispute. This event became something of a scandal; even my friends protested in my defense.
In particular, the group of Vicente and the other Spaniards. Working in the truck loading/unloading department above where I was, they had been siding with me for days in my attempt with the redhead. Even, a verbal dispute had arisen with the faction of English colleagues who were for the boss instead. Well, the next day we were all transferred en bloc to another factory, and I never saw the girl again.
Although it was much better (still working from 6:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m., but at least without surprises), after 5 weeks I had amply demonstrated to myself that I could manage. I assessed that there was no point in working so hard to be little more than breaking even and decided to leave.
I said goodbye to everyone with a kind of displeasure. I headed to Cambridge, a mostly university town. But I found that during the summer period there was little work by missing almost all the students. So I went to London, but I had no money. On principle I didn’t want to ask my parents for any, so I booked the first possible flight, which was after five days.
Fight risk in Brixton
Unlike the previous year in which I toured the English capital as a rich man and gave up nothing; the second time I focused on the nonetheless beautiful, and at the time very green, parks.
In the hostel I befriended a guy from Florence. With him I invested the little money in a few beers. Once we went to the Brixton neighborhood where one particular night a place was open, famous for great music. But we got the day wrong. Although we were aware that it was normally a sketchy area, we stopped for a drink.
I sat down in the one stool. He stood for a while until he noticed a vacant chair and continuing to talk to me and looking at me, he picked it up and then walked back over.
I had already noticed a frightening black big man. So many, almost in procession, were passing by to pay obsequious homage to him. I identified him as a neighborhood boss.
He had stood up for a moment, and just then my Florentine friend had pulled the chair almost out from under him. Turning toward the big man, I saw the scene with him changing expression and imbuffed followed the Florentine snatching the chair from his hands.
It all happened in a matter of moments, and it was fortunate that he had not yet sat down, otherwise I think he would have thrown him off. Our immediate and numerous sorrys prevented an escalation, but I had a bad time.
I realized that all it would take was a little wandering around to find work in London in some pubs. I had made a mistake in relying on the agency and not going on a bit of an adventure from home. For that I was very pissed off, and on my return I looked for ways to make up for it. Many years later I returned to London, to a totally different situation, starting with the London lawns that were no longer green.
Links to travel working in the UK and general ones
Home travel My business trip gutting chickens in England
Previous stop Incredible encounters during business trip to UK
Next Stage Guest on prime-time and live TV.
Trips taken, travel stories divided by continent
Anecdotes, divided by type in travel narratives
Countries visited in my travel stories
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