readytorunbook Chapter 253 The Power of the Workers
Chapter 253 The Power of the Workers
"Let me repeat myself, this is the company's decision. If you cannot accept it, the company allows you to submit your resignation."
The company representative, dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase, stood in front of the workers. He tried to appear calm, but ever since the board of directors announced the decision, he had been praying that he wouldn't be the one to tell the workers.
But in the end, he was chosen. As a middle-level employee, he didn't have to worry about his job, since he was one of the few talents who had undergone a complete education.
He knew very well that to the board of directors, he was just a number, and to his superiors, he was just a "useful high-end human resource." He didn't intend to get into a stalemate with these workers, since his superiors weren't there and it had nothing to do with him.
"Shut up, you shameless bastard! Your worker grandpa is right here!"
The company representative swallowed hard. He knew all too well that these ill-mannered, irritable guys would be ignited sooner or later—no, they already were. He glanced around and saw the workers standing on the open ground in the port area, just standing there, with no one operating the heavy machinery. He even saw several ships fully loaded with cargo.
"Let the big boss speak!"
"That's right! Who do you think you are? Don't think I don't know who you are. You're just a nobody. Get the person in charge out here!"
Upon hearing this, the company representative stepped back repeatedly. The workers' words seemed to offer him a small way out. He picked up his briefcase and shouted, "Fine! Fine! Everyone, could you make way for me? I'll go back and tell the big boss!"
The workers' sweat wafted into his nostrils, but there was also the smell of gunpowder. He knew that if he said anything more, he might ignite this powder keg. His expression became humble, fearing that these burly men, whose arms were thicker than his thighs, would hit him on the back of the head.
“Tell your big boss that we’ll stand here until we reach an agreement, and no one will have to redo the work. They’ll take responsibility for any losses.”
Someone in the crowd shouted, but the company representative couldn't see clearly and just slunk away.
"That representative has left."
"Yes, but that's nothing, not even a victory. That company representative is just like any other worker, just an employee of a big company. In fact, we don't need to make things difficult for that young man. What we really need to face is the boss and his lackeys."
One of the Proletarian Commune allies emphasized that the strike had the full support of the Proletarian Commune, which worked with the workers to establish a self-governing dockworkers' union.
“Organize the workers to build barricades with cargo from the docks and hang our banners and flags on them.”
In Porto Caro, the heart of Brittany, a different color suddenly appeared amidst the skyscrapers and neon lights—a red flag amidst the cold steel and vibrant lights.
The intellectuals of the Proletarian Commune created flags and banners for workers to express their demands.
"Raise workers' wages!"
"Improve the work environment!"
"Reduce working hours!"
"Workers, unite! Fight for your rights!"
For example, such slogans were hung in the port, on those powered cranes, and in front of barricades made of crates, with workers holding rudimentary weapons.
It turned out that the authorities in Brittany were capitalist, as the workers soon saw—the special police force from Brittany—the Port-Carlo Mobile Unit.
By attaching itself to Amerlane, Porto Carlo also absorbed a lot of advanced policing experience. Relying on its almost reliance on Amerlane, the Britannian police easily purchased the latest police equipment produced in Amerlane, including armored vehicles, tear gas, shotguns, revolvers, and many other police equipment. In fact, due to its small size and abundant funds, the Britannian police spared no expense in equipping themselves with equipment that was far superior to that of the police in most cities in Amerlane.
The Carroll Port Mobile Unit is a large number of quasi-special police equipped with police bomb disposal vehicles and heavy armor. The workers soon saw a large number of white bomb disposal vehicles drive into the port and form a defensive line.
"Don't be afraid, fellow workers! Stay alert!"
The police's arrival had an immediate effect. Even though some people were shouting to maintain order, it was clear that many people's expressions had changed. A member of the Proletarian Commune standing among the workers looked at the police.
"Listen up, those in front! Your illegal strike has already jeopardized the company's property! It's not too late to give up now!"
The police on the other side started shouting, and the workers wavered a little. But once they had one foot on the boat, it was too late to get off. If they backed down now, how would they support themselves?
“We are port workers at Port Carlo! Please listen to our demands! Port Carlo Freight Company has repeatedly reduced our wages and increased our working hours! We have reached our limit! Our demands are simple! Stop reducing wages! Stop increasing working hours!”
The sound waves from both sides' loudspeakers collided in the air. Outside the port, the media arrived immediately, and the sound of flashing cameras rang out. Twenty minutes later, reporters with cameras arrived as scheduled.
"We port workers can't take this anymore! We have families and children to support! We agreed on our wages with the company in a contract, and that's the contract!"
The workers showed their contracts; most of them were illiterate, and unlike Amelia, Britannia did not offer literacy courses.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, a well-dressed, pot-bellied man walked up to the police.
"Hello, officer, I am the CEO of Carroll Port Freight Company..."
"Good morning sir."
"Isn't your police force going to deal with these rioters? You should know that every minute they stay at the port costs the company millions in profits!"
The CEO looked at the ships in the port. The cargo ships, blocked by the strike, just sat there, with no one unloading their cargo. Those expensive goods were just one contract breach penalty after another.
"Sir, if I may be so frank, I would have given the order long ago if it were last year. But as you know, the media has developed very rapidly recently. Look, even before you arrived here, the reporters had already set up their cameras. I heard that some media outlets have even started live broadcasts. Look, that's the car from the Western Ocean United Report. The magic signal antenna on it is used to relay live broadcast signals."
The police officer in charge of the scene waved his hand. He had no sympathy for these capitalists, but they were indeed the ones paying the police force's salaries. However, if things were done the way he suggested, the police force would be on the front page tomorrow.
The media has recently shown signs of gaining power, with journalists rushing around faster than anyone else, especially those from Brittany, who are even faster than those from Amerinsia. They travel all over the world to report the news, but many of these journalists lack professional skills and simply use the simplest and most attention-grabbing methods to report the news.
They are too young and too naive, sometimes even a bit amateurish, but their news can cause a media frenzy.
As a first-class superintendent in the police force, how could he not know that just last week, a reporter reported on a company that used industrial solvents to produce food, and the next day, the company was surrounded by the public, and in the middle of the night, Molotov cocktails were thrown at it and burned down the entire factory?
The police force must not act recklessly, at the very least, they must not be put in a dangerous position by the media!