Moving Target, 1991
by Zero
Hey boys and girls, well that was summer. - Standing-by for half an hour or more at a time, three-hour lunch breaks, spending more on food and drink than you're actually earning. The summer slump was with us with a vengeance this year. You may have got a good tan (but watch out for skin cancer, and while I'm on the subject, have you thought about a smog mask?) but the rent might have to wait.
All during the hot summer months I and my fellow controllers got a constant stream of riders complaining about the lack of work. Some don't exactly complain, they just flutter their eyelashes at me and say "I could do with a good day Zed, its been pretty shitty recently..." But listen, we can't control the level of work (hassle your firm's sales team). Sure I could starve most of the riders for the sake of the few, but how long do you think I'd survive? Several riders I have known will work their butts off during the lucrative and unglamourous winter months, then disappear during the summer. I realise this isn't an option open to all of you, but you should consider travelling, or some other part-time work. After all most of you are young enough to be out exploring all the options. Whatever you do, don't regard despatching as a career - it is not a proper job. This is my main objection to all the talk about unionisation that has been popular for the last two or three years. As soon as you legitimise cc's (who are probably the last acceptable bastion of the black economy), you begin to sell the lie that this is a proper job.
Personally speaking, I don't even want a proper job and have never had one (don't try and tell me controlling has anything to do with the real world) - the protestant work ethic just doesn't appeal to me. If that's what you want then get out of despatching - if you don't want it either don't hang around too long, or take frequent breaks from it (preferably during the summer!). If you despatch for fifty weeks a year for too long then you fall into a no-win trap - a job which gives you neither security nor freedom.
So get off my back and call me POB.
See y'awl, Zero.
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