The Teamsters

I was once was a proud member of the Teamsters Union.  I worked as a warehouseman in Oakland, paid my dues for years, and was proud to be a Teamster.  I did have some differences with the union, though.  My co-worker Bart and I went to a meeting in Oakland about 1971 to ask our local to endorse an anti-war march in San Francisco.  We did not succeed, and our presentation was accompanied by shouts of “Peace of What?” and “Sit down, you damn hippies.”  Bart and I marched anyway; we made a banner that said “Teamsters against the war.”

When I finally left my warehouse job (I qualified for a pension and was paid well for a blue collar job), I took an honorable withdrawal from the union.  

Now I’m not so proud of my Teamster membership.  If the union can’t decide between Kamala Harris and the union-busting strike-breaking billionaire suck up Donald Trump, screw them.  I’m burning my “withdrawal card.”