Wage-slave self-deception.
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Notice how bank clerks now call themselves bankers?
Anything to present society as classless and avoid calling oneself working class.
No I didn’t. Google banker. It is now the term also for a bank clerk, and they all call themselves bankers.
In the days of Chaplin workers knew they were workers. They may have sheepishly followed warmongers and idolised monarchs, but they knew they were working class.
The workers were the good guys in movies. The underdog was championed.
Now, the underdog is a criminal whom the heroic cops deal with, and the regular fare for workers are “reality” shows and idolisation of the parasitic super-rich.
Now, if you tell someone they are working class, or tell a bank clerk he isn’t a banker, you’ll be shunned.
Just like telling someone the biological fact that they are an animal!As part of the induction process to working in a department store a few years ago, I sat with young wage-slave hopefuls at a large table facing the managers. When it came time for a trade union rep to talk to us, we were told in advance that we don’t have to listen to him. While the young people (all avid fans of Love Island etc.) sat with heads bowed in silence and stayed silent when he asked for questions, I engaged with him, while the managers glared at me.
Back at the jobcentre I was summoned to a private office and told “You’re a troublemaker, aren’t you?”Was it Woolworth’s? I worked in their broken-biscuit mines, (remember when they sold loose broken-biscuits?) Any road up, I hamstrung this overseer who was getting on me wick and sent to fight in the arena.
Cut a long story short, this tall black fellow called Woody, had me down and was about to plunge his trident through me chest when he saw something in me face, don’t know what, but it saved me life. He turned and hurled the trident at the managing director who was sat in a balcony seat with a couple of tarts. The trident missed, so my opponent leapt toward them…uh, hang on a minute. This is the plot to Spartacus isn’t it?
I did once apply for a job at Woolworth’s though.
Didn’t get it.It wasn’t Woolworth’s.
I won’t name it.I did have a Xmas job in Woolworth’s in 1993.
I was on the till, age 33, and the 21 yr old manager was supervising me, when a little old lady spoke to him and pointed at me:
“It’s good to see the young ‘uns getting a proper start in life.”
Woolworth’s had the habit of frisking all staff about to clock off early, in front of customers.
An amusing true story. I worked in Debenhams in the 1980s, where a Mr. Mackay-like security guard gave us all the once-over at the end of the day.
Years later I bumped into him (he was a customer, like me), in a CD shop. He shouted, with everyone turning to look at me: “STILL ON THE STRAIGHT AND NARROW?”
As I was leaving the shop, he boomed again, with everyone turning: “KEEP YOUR NOSE CLEAN!”
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