Lockout lipgloss

I had supper with some friends at the Co-op tonight. Someone who comes to Rankin fairly regularly for work stopped me as I was making my way over to look at what was left on in the dessert display case, (which wasn't much.)

"How did you survive that lockout in this place?" she asked.

I survived (maybe even thrived?) the last month and a half because of my friends.

The lockout taught me (and I'm sure my colleagues would agree) that I have even more of them than I thought.

People like the Janes...who dropped off sandwiches, not once, but twice. Oh the soft white bread! Oh the roast beef! The mayo! And was that a hint of horseradish? Soul food.

Steve, Brian, Lisa, Brooke and anyone else who dropped by with hot cups of coffee on cold days.

The NEU who cheered us up with sandwiches and donuts. (A big shout out to Janice and Savante.)

Everyone who stopped and asked how things were going...but especially the regulars likeSamgushak, who can't even hear the radio, but who stopped by nearly every day to cheer us up.

To everyone who came out to our month-iversary on September 15, and struggled to sip coffee in the 40 km/hr winds.

Everyone who wrote a letter, signed a petition, or sent a postcard to the Prime Minister.

To Janice...for all those meals at the Co-op

To Ruthann...for all those breakfasts at the co-op, and for the notes of encouragement!

To my sister...who is in MANAGEMENT with Air Canada, but still supports her sister the picket co-ordinator!

To my dad and super stepmom for always calling me back so I didn't have a massive phone bill...and for letting me rant on and on on their tab.

To Karen...whose care package kept me from getting scurvy...and reminded me what real peaches taste like.

To my aunts and uncles and cousins whose care package came at JUST the right time (i.e. After the strike pay cheques stopped and before the regular pay cheques started!)

To Chrissy...for all the encouraging messages on my voicemail--you'd think I'd actually be home MORE when I'm out of work, wouldn't you?

To everyone who offered me freelance work...and especially the Arctic Princess who put up with my regular ranting AND put me to work wading through cheque stubs and wrestling with the &$*% ing fax/copier/printer. (Whose bright idea was that combo, anyway?)

And last but not least, to the best Mary Kay lady on the planet...who understands that a new lipgloss goes a long way on the picket line.
(Hey...don't knock the lipgloss habit. A girl's gotta do something to compensate for chronic helmet/hat head.)

I'm sure I've forgotten someone, if I have, I apologize. Don't take it personally.
As my mother used to tell me, I'd forget my head if it wasn't screwed on tight.

:)

We've got a deal. Or at least, a memorandum of agreement, which, once all the language is written should amount to a deal.


So far...from what I understand the corp will have to keep the number of contract workers at 9.5 percent of the permenant workforce.

And BEST of all...the deal includes something they're calling the Northern Service Interpreters Premium. Which amounts to $800.00 a year for anyone who works in an aboriginal language in the CBC's Northern Service. You should have heard the shout go up from us Northerners on the president's and co-ordinators call over that one. Something, finally something for the North out of all this crap. This is something guild members in the North have been fighting for for 10 years!

I'm so happy about this one...because it means I can go to my colleagues with something that's specifically for THEM in this whole thing.

Lots of unanswered questions though. About the details of this deal, of course. About when and how we go back to work. (Pre- or post-ratification, and more importantly...pre- or post- the first HNIC?)
But also about why CBC's negotiators went from talking about binding arbitration, to some major concessions, in about an hour's time...

More details will follow. WE all know WHO is in the details, but so far it seems like we've got a good deal.

Was it hockey? The heritage committee? Some blackberry message from PM PM TO RB the S*B?

WHO CARES! WE GOT A DEAL.

And now I've got to sleep.

J

Inukshuk update...and then some.

I love nights like this. I just tore myself away from a great book about the Iditarod sled-dog race. Outside the wind is gusting up to 80 km/hr. If it was snowing this would be a certifiable blizzard. The way the wind whooshes against the roof has the cats kind of spooked, so Frank's lying on my feet...and the other fuzzy fella has tucked himself between my back and the back of my chair.
Harry's dogs are howling...I can only hear them in the distance but they've also set off some of the mutts that live near my place. The eerie racket doesn't last long once another gust of wind blows up. I'm sure they're now curled up, nose to tail, backs to the wind.

I hope Charlie's inukshuk is still standing.
Here's what it looked like yesterday...( I tried getting this page up last night, but our internet service was down again.)

JUST KIDDING...

That's actually the giant inushuk that stoically keeps watch over Rankin Inlet, wind or no wind. (And there's rarely a day without wind in Rankin.) The inukshuk is our version of the giant potato or blueberry. Tourist bait. Because a giant Inukshuk (or a larger than life billboard with Jordin Tootoo on it) is all it will take to convince people in the south to fork over $1300 bucks for a plane ticket to Rankin. (Don't get me wrong though, I love the inukshuk. And the Jordin Tootoo sign. )

Here's the real lockout Inukshuk...

Charlie's started putting some stones around the base of the pile. He says it's getting too big...and he's worried kids might get hurt if they start messing around with the inukshuk and a rock falls off.

There's Charlie, taking a break after his hard work. (Actually, he's really just just hamming it up for the camera.)

I guess I mentioned in a previous post that I'm off to Ontario for Thanksgiving.

I thought about high-tailing it to Toronto weeks ago. Figured I could picket there, enjoy the bake-offs and aerobics, network a little. Good plan, actually because I could have made the same picket pay, and saved a whole lot of money by mooching off my parents for a while. (Instead I've stayed and mooched off a lot of friends.)

But I also really wanted to try to stick it out here. (I am half-Dutch, after all, and that stubborness comes in handy sometimes.) I also didn't want to leave my colleagues. I didn't think it was fair. They're FROM here. Whose basement are they going to live in? Whose fridge are they going to raid? Whose going to make sure said fridge is stocked with bacon and tomoto.(Dad...if you're reading this, that's your cue...)

When it was down to just me, Betty and Charlie (and then me and Charlie) I kind of patted myself on the back now and then, y'know, for staying to support my colleagues.

But especially these last few days I've realized...I had it all backwards. Charlie's the one keeping my spirits up...with his hamming around for my camera and his committment. The guy got +250 signatures on a petition after one weekend in Arviat!

There was one day where he kind of threw his picket sign on the ground and tore a corner off of it. Then he called me at home that evening to say he was sorry for "acting kind of mad." It actually made me cry then...and it does now, writing about it.

And do you know, Betty's called me practically every day since she gave up the picket line for a contract with the government. I know she's getting her information on the lockout from the Internet, so I suspect she's really checking in on ME, in her own sneaky, mothering way.

So who's supporting who?

Ah! Those big cats in Toronto think they know how to play the game.

But we've got something out of this they can't put a pricetag on.