Unions are workers who agitate for a better life

by Sam Drew/PNN

“Security officers protect million dollar buildings, yet they can’t afford to live in the city they work in,” Teresita Cruz, the energetic vice president of Service Employees International Union (SEIU) 24/7, said loudly to the gathering crowd of security officers and janitors. I am one of those security workers protesting, but this time I was also reporting and sup-porting for POOR. We were marching late Thursday afternoon to loudly protest low wages and the rising cost of health care for workers.

I have done security work for 15 years. I’ve protected million dollar properties for multi- millionaire owners and been shorted on my checks time and time again because they have gone with the lowest bidder for security services. I’ve complained with other guards because we get write-ups for calling off for illnesses while security companies slash health benefits. I’ve seen owners spend $20,000 on lobby doors then forget to pay officers. This is why I’m pissed off and protesting with a large group of my fellow officers for justice, respect and fair wages.

The boisterous protest took place smack dab in the middle of the financial district in San Francisco underneath the huge skyscrapers racing each other to touch the late evening clouds. The crowd represented the diversity that the Bay Area is famous for. All colors, hues, shapes, sizes, ages and attitudes were represented in a purple ocean of agitated humanity. The large crowd clad in purple shirts started to hand out pots, pans, drums, whistles and anything else that could be used to make loud noise.

Protesters started marching and chanting: “What do we want? Justice! When do we want it? Now!” as women in business attire stepped aside. Men hugging their expensive leather briefcases gave quizzical stares as the rambunctious crowd made its way to the first destination, ABM Security. Teresita informed the energized throng, “Health care is what this is about. This is about taking care of our families.” Screams of approval mixed in with whistles and drumbeats greeted her statement.

Suddenly, a short wiry man wearing law enforcement like sunglasses jumped into the middle of the multitude. “Would you mind not doing this in front of my building,” he sternly lectured the crowd. His teeth were clenched tight while veins bulged in his neck as he slowly surveyed the situation. The way he folded his arms around his chest reminded me of an Old West cowboy protecting a homestead from bloodthirsty marauders.

The show of unity and empowerment must have rubbed him the wrong way. But peacekeepers quickly interceded, explaining that their purpose was to deliver a letter to ABM Security and leave, not to steal his cattle.

As the selected delegation descended down into the belly of the massive building, the crowd began chanting and clapping without stop until their representatives returned. “ABM, shame on you,” we repeated, to remind all that security officers are ready to fight for higher wages and access to affordable health care.

The purple brigade began to roll towards its next destination, Allied Barton, which is one of the largest security companies around and has just cut its Kaiser healthcare plan. “Do security officers and janitors in the Bay Area deserve quality health care?” the organizers asked loudly as we approached the building. “Yes!” was the crowd’s unanimous reply. A new delegation of security workers and janitors delivered our demands for fair treatment to the recalcitrant security company.

While waiting for their comrades to return, leaflets were handed out to workers dashing by to catch the BART or MUNI. The leaflet details the plight of William, a security officer who protects prestigious properties and the lives of hundreds, but goes home to his impoverished neighborhood because his wages and benefits aren’t similar to other service workers. He looks like he could fit in with any Fortune 500 company. His suit is immaculate, his tie impeccable. But because of unaffordable health care, if William ever gets sick, it’ll cost him a fortune. Cheers greeted the return of the vice president and the other diplomats.

“We received very nice smiles. They were very company-like.” But the response to the demands wasn’t what the masses wanted. Everybody wanted to hear the companies agree to change for the better. According to SEIU: “Experts estimate the turnover among security officers to be up to 400 percent. That is far higher than even the fast food industry.” This high turnover rate has a negative impact on public safety. Keeping qualified security officers on the job is essential for protection of lives and property.

The final stop for the purple bus is Securitas, the largest company in the world. Organizer Eric Lerner shouts to the assembly, “Securitas is the biggest security company in the whole world and the first to slash health benefits.” The last delegation goes in to confront the security giant with three undaunted representatives.

As I watch security officers and janitors fighting side by side for justice, equality and respect, I’m reminded of the sad saga of Frank Wills, the Watergate building guard who discovered the office break-in that helped kick President Nixon out of the White House. Soon after the furor of Watergate had died down, Wills had trouble finding work and was soon penniless. Wills died a broke and disillusioned man while many of the Watergate crooks got book deals, radio shows, TV appearances and speaking engagements. But the real hero was beat down by an uncaring system and left to suffer alone.

“We’ll be back,” I chanted with the crowd when the passionate purple posse returns. We will keep fighting for better benefits, wages and health care. As the protest dwindles down, I remember a quote I read in an SEIU pamphlet about why unions fight: “Unions are not officers, offices or grievances. Unions are workers that agitate for a better life.” I’m sure Frank Wills would endorse that goal. I know I do.

Sam is a poverty scholar and reporter for POOR. He just graduated with honors from POOR Magazine’s Race, Poverty and Media Justice Institute.