Hurrah, hurrah, I have a new job. I’m working at a restaurant. This is not the sort of thing that’s considered a “real” job– management was shocked when they saw someone with my resume applying. Put a pin in that thought for a moment.

During the orientation, I was given a bunch of paperwork to fill out. Many of the forms I was required to sign were certifying that I had “read and understood” things like tipping laws, and the employee handbook, among others. After I had signed these forms, I was given the opportunity to read the documents I’d already sworn I’d read and understood. If I don’t like it, I can join the 10% of Americans looking for work.

Another interesting bit of paperwork I was required to sign was one waiving my right to a civil trial if I had a litigation-requiring dispute with the company. I am, of course, free to not sign these papers. Of course, most every employer requires the waiving of such rights, and individuals nearly always lack power with which to negotiate. So I signed. And generally hope that those clauses are unenforceable.

The boss told myself and my fellow trainees that “the restaurant gives you two holidays ever year. You should be happy– some restaurants are open on Christmas and Thanksgiving” That prompted me to ask “But we get overtime on Federal holidays, right?” The response is worth emphasizing:

“No. That’s only for places that have unions. We don’t have unions around here”

So about Wisconsin.

They’re not striking for wages and benefits. At least, they’re willing to negotiate and make concessions. We’re in a time of major economic difficulty, and we can’t ask rich people to foot part of the bill, so Unions need to do their part. Seems fair, right? Certainly part of the landscape in 21st century America. That’s not what this strike is about.

This strike is about the fact that every job is a “real” job. The strike is about the basic right of workers to form organizations that leverage the only power workers have: their ability to collectively walk off the job.

The thing is, most workers have enough human capital to do a whole lot of jobs competently. Which means the bargaining power of any given worker is pretty small. An organization that lacks a single person can fill that hole. An organization that lacks all workers is in a whole lot of trouble. Thus the only real power that workers have is en mass.

This strike is about the fact that your boss might care about you, but your organization cannot , does not, and is not allowed to.
The only organization which does care, can care, and must care is a union. This strike is about the fact that the governor wants to take away the only power workers have, and workers cannot let that happen.

Remember what I said a earlier about arbitration? That’s when a worker thinks an employer has harmed them in some way that isn’t illegal, and so they sue. Except that instead of going before a disinterested judge, the corporation will hire a judge– and that judge knows that if they wants to get hired again they will find in favor of the corporation. When workers are unionized, unions help pay for the judge.

And about negotiating pay? Who has the stronger bargaining position: 1) an individual and replaceable worker, or 2) an entire workforce? (hint: 2).

And finally, let’s not forget what my new boss said about federal holidays being for people in unions. In Wisconsin, they’re fighting for the basic right to wave a flag and have apple pie at a 4th of July barbecue.

This summer, to decide whether I should really take the extra time and effort to be pre-med, I am volunteering at the hospital. My first couple of weeks have been particularly surreal. From the initiation, where I talked to a fellow who spoke ill of the hospital we were volunteering for and explained that they stick the volunteers in a closet to file papers, to the next week where I was hiding in the corner of a big white room filled with a few doctors and a whole hell of a lot of nurses praying that I don’t faint at the sight of blood.

To say the least, I wasn’t filing papers. Though, I didn’t see much. I could see a bit of skull sticking out of his head, and contusions on his face. I could definitely hear him screaming expletives as the nurses pulled his mangled body into a recognizable human position. I told myself I could hide behind the curtain if I got too scared and felt like I was going to faint, but I didn’t.

I do believe that it is necessary to look straight into the horrors of life in order to become a better person. Whether or not I want to be a doctor, I keep telling myself, it is a good experience to have.

I was late getting home. I rode home on my bicycle, shaky, but alert, and sat down in my chair to play some World of Warcraft.

The first thing I thought was that it was ironic that I decided to play a video game to escape violence and fear of death, but honestly I couldn’t find anything more fitting. In World of Warcraft, you are in a world which is free of death (at least death is very temporary, and as such not really death), and even pain is a bandage away from perfect health. As many kodos might barrel over my tiny, undead body, I am never smushed or hurt. I never end up in a level 1 trauma center.

Granted, Grand Theft Auto, or (lest I sound old) Carmageddon *might* have been a little more harrowing (yes, said trauma described above was a car accident), but the idea is the same. Video games are not about death and violence, because there isn’t any, really. And while I might be completely not accustomed to pain and death in real life, I am plenty desensitized to video game violence.

I really wonder what the video-game-playing members of the US Armed Forces think about all of this, especially since the horror of medicine is nothing compared to the horror of war.