HAVE
SIGN WILL TRAVEL
ADVENTURES
IN THE COLLECTIVE UNPLEASANT
During the Recent Unpleasantness here at Arcadia we were blessed, on a very regular basis, by members of other faculty associations who chose to back up their words of support with their physical presence. Though WolfVegas always considers itself to be the height of something or other, a travel hub it ain’t. So to have nearly fifteen universities and colleges drive/fly in to support us out here in The Land of Ripe Fall Air was visceral testament to other people’s mettle, and I resolved then that if anyone else’s negotiations went down the crapper, I’d be first on the bus in support.
Chapter One: January
Seale Click Yah, Seale.
Hale Hi. It’s Larry.
Silence
Seale: Larry who?
Hale: Larry from the CAUT Defence Fund.
Silence
Seale: What?
Hale: Ha, ha. During the AUFA strike last Fall I arrived late one night, remember, ha, ha, when you were working alone at AUFA HQ, and you were going to throw me out because you thought I might be some drunk from The Verge. Ha, ha, ha. Remember?
Seale: No. . .
What’s with the weird accent?
Hale: I’m from PEI.
Seale: Click
Thus a large contingent of AUFA
stalwarts arrived to rally and support FAUST in Fredericton – I driving the Aufamobile with
support equipment such as Vern Provencal’s in-shoe lifts and spare hernia
truss, and that thing that keeps
Saint Thomas (I will only speak for myself) was a bit of an enigma: the administration of a Catholic University, while at the bargaining table, suddenly and without warning locks out its faculty, FAUST. At Christmas. How could you begin to lose that PR gaffe? Well, welcome to the politics of New Brunswick. By the time we arrived, things had been said and done to those good people that would cause any rational being’s jaw to permanently unhinge.
AUFA formed the largest, most organized and most visible/vocal fly-in picket for the meeting and rally. With all lack of humility, I think we did Acadia proud. As we walked the line with FAUST later that afternoon, it had become clear to me (yet again) not only the depth, warmth and intelligence of our membership, but just how highly we are regarded outside our own little berg here in the Annapolis Valley. FAUST had a very bitter, needlessly prolonged and divisive encounter with the St. Thomas administration, and although they eventually arrived at a settlement, that betrayal of their trust may take much longer to heal.
Chapter Two: March
Seale: Click Yah, Seale.
Nevo: Bonjour, Robert! Denise ici.
Silence
Seale: What?
Nevo: Ay ame wiff ze CAUT Defance Fonde. Aye teeche awt MSVU.
Seale : Ha, ha, ha. Is that you Tony? That’s really funny.
Nevo: Noo! Leesen - we mette duringe za streek in Volfeville. Remembear? Mee, I yam shorte an yoo sade aye looke lak a Hobbitte.
Silence
Seale: Is this that Swedish woman from Manitoba?
Nevo: Noo! Aye yam Frrrench frome Mounte Sai. . .!
Seale: Click.
Thus began my solo journey to Wilfred Laurier University in support of CAS, the part-timers within WLUFA. 33% of the teaching load, 5% of the budget for salaries. University statistics. Not a particularly defensible position for the administration.
Speaking of starts, I missed my flight out of Halifax by five minutes because the Park ‘N Fly bus had a flat. What are the odds? And by “miss” I mean they wouldn’t let me on because I was just within a ½ hour of departure (their arbitrary cut-off), not that I couldn’t have gotten on. So I’m given a connecting flight through Ottawa - which is also departing almost immediately. It’ll simply take twice as long. After much whispering and measuring behind the counter, the Air Canada Baggage Police decide that my two picket signs, duct taped together, had to go Special Baggage. For this, you must present yourself, with the offending material, before a person - a person clearly wearing someone else’s uniform - at a large x-ray machine. Down the hall. All by itself.
Seale: I’ve been told I have to check these as Special Baggage.
Security: Looks up from book.
Stares at signs.
Seale: Do you want them on the conveyor?
Security: Remaining seated. Holds up right hand in “stop” gesture. Stares at signs. What are they, sir?
Seale: Signs.
Security: Signs.
Seale: Yah. Signs. Picket signs.
Security: Eyes narrowing. Picket signs.
Seale: Yah. Picket signs. For a strike.
Security: Two blinks. Purses lips. Strike?
Silence
Seale: Not strike as in “hit.” Strike as in “job action.”
Security: Eyes narrow again. Job. . .?
Seale: Listen, I’m going to miss my. . .
Security: Rising, holding out hand for signs. Did you pack them yourself, sir?
Seale: What?
Security: Examining duct tape. Do they belong to you, sir?
Seale: In a manner of speaking.
Security: Eyes narrow again. What?
Seale: Yes! Yes, they’re mine. Absolutely. And they haven’t been out of my sight, if that’s your next question. Now, my fli. . .
Security: Trying to peek between signs. Have they been out of your sight or in anyone else’s possession since you packed them?
Silence. Continued peeking. Second guard arrives. Looks at me. Joins in peeking.
Seale: Isn’t that what the x-ray machine is for?
Security: Four eyes narrow.
Seale: Just a thought. Sorry. I’m in a bit of a hurry.
Security: When we’re done, sir.
You get the idea. On the flight from Halifax to Ottawa, the beverage cart runs over my left foot. On the flight from Ottawa to Toronto, the baby beside me spits up in my right shoe, which I have taken off. I arrive at the Hertz counter at Pearson limping and squishing. My car isn’t there. They try and get me to upgrade to some Hummer-like thing that looks like a very bright yellow armoured car, with some form of huge cartoon tires from a monster truck rally. I settle for a full-size car (the only other thing they have), and play with the electric three-dimensional driver seat adjustments all the way to Waterloo. Tip: you can get some interesting looks driving on the 401 if you lay yourself out flat up against the roof. . . I get in at 11:45pm, having left Wolfville at 2:30pm. I prep the signs for the next day. I’m ready for the rally.
Breakfast with the CAUT fly-in cohort of approx. eight – including Madame Nevo, who I leg wrestle for the cheque, best two out of three falls. I let her win. We arrive at their strike headquarters, which is well organized and tastefully appointed, and are briefed by their PR people. We are graciously offered food and drink throughout, and I make it a point to continuously ask for things I know they don’t have, just to embarrass them. That’ll teach them for being so nice. They’re not locked out, so we can walk about on campus without signs. The campus itself is an entire block with the five entrance gates being picketed. We rally off campus and then march around the university for approx. two hours, stopping at all the gates for speeches and a variety of exhortations by both Knobs (CAUT) and the unwashed (me). There is a fantastic kind of rabid student support, and many collar me during the event to thank AUFA for making the trip. My 30 second incendiary rant with the bullhorn is so libellous and defamatory that CTV wants an individual interview with me, during which (I’m reliably told) I describe the university president as someone who believed the bigger the hat, the better the cowboy. I also clearly stated that I had never met the gentleman that I had only seen a picture of him in his Edumacator t-shirt. That makes the 6pm CTV news out of Toronto. That very evening their negotiator calls with an invitation to return to the table. Coincidence? I think so.
Robert “The Sign Guy” Seale