Wednesday, December 22, 2004

Mailbag:

From an anonymous email, subject line "cold-hearted Strand" (A possibly gratuitous, but more likely unintentional Paula Abdul reference? Yes!):

There is no heat on the main floor of the Strand. There might be a radiator going off without use in some corner of the Strand, but step on to the main floor on a day like yesterday [12/20/04] where it was twenty degrees outside and you can see your breath when you exhale. There are no federal regulations requiring an employer to control the temperature of a workplace, but sadly, for penny-pinching Fred Bass, he is operating his store in New York City, where labor unions were able to secure some workplace rights before they faded into irrelevance.

Just as your landlord is required to provide heat for you in these cold winter months, so is your employer. Call 311 (NY Government) and tell them you want to file a complaint. I did this morning. It takes ten minutes, and with enough complaints, they will investigate faster. You can file anonymously. If the owners want to stiff us out of fair wages and decent healthcare, they are at least going to have to provide a heated workplace where you don't need to wear a scarf, hat, and at least three layers of sweaters just to stifle the shivering. Keep fighting and praise god that you live in a town with progressive laws. Just try calling OSHA (1-800-321-OSHA) to get the New York number to call and you will see that you are lucky, that OSHA deliberately stonewalls and doesn't provide any assistance to help you find out about local regulations, will refuse to. While the federal labor group atrophies, we still at least have good progressive New York laws, and friendly people on the other end of 311, eager to take your complaint.

Are you suggesting that those small space heaters conveniently located next to the managers' desks are insufficient for warming hundreds of thousands of square feet of retail space?

Watch out for Fred's Pinkerton thugs, bud. Someday very soon you'll be walking through the M-through-O Literature aisle and feel a blackjack cracking up against that thick commie skull of yours. . . you'll wake up to find yourself naked, slathered in scallion cream cheese, and being eaten alive by sewer rats. . . or as I refer to it, "a successful Friday night."*

My own solution is to just set the place on fire, as matches are cheaper than sweaters, and almost as much fun to play with.



*with the possible (but by no means necessary) substitution of ugly women for sewer rats


Paula Abdul Paula Abdul Paula Abdul

3 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Please. Next you're going to claim that calling in The Man to investigate the gas leak in the basement- about which Fred has known for years and about which he has done nothing- will be effective. It's called palm oil, the big handout, greasing the enemy, etc.

9:04 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

The heating issue has been going on for years. Once the day shift leaves (IE, upper mangement), the heat is set to turn off. The truly idiotic part is that it probably costs more to fire up the heater in the morning to re-heat the whole damn place than it does to leave it on low during the evening shift.

2:55 am  
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6:45 pm  

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