Hopeless 2014

 

The Closing Of The Gates.

 

The talk around the lunchroom was pretty quiet that day,

'cos they'd been told what had been rumoured, there was nothing left to say.

There was Barry, Jack and Margie, young Jase and Smiling Fred.

  For years they'd worked together, now the future stretched ahead

 in a blankness of uncertainty and filled their minds with dread.

 

The boss had been to Melbourne, trying hard on their behalf

to reason with Directors, (who didn't know the staff.)

They had tried to 'up' production, to cut costs in every way.

But, the factory would be closing.  Next week was their last pay.

 

Barry had three kids and a wife who wasn't well.

Jack, he’d ‘Do O.K’ he said. ‘The boss can go to Hell’

‘Margie's partner left her with two kids and she despaired

another job would come her way… ‘and I need the car repaired.’

 

Young Jason thought he had a mate, who'd help him find a place.

 Smiling Fred, who’d worn a grin, now had a grim, old face.

He had worked there thirty years, knew each machine so well.

he could not believe his work could end, with the ringing of a bell.

 

To walk out on the job he loved, say farewell to his mates,

 after standing in a huddle, while they watched the closing of the gates.

He wasn't ready to retire; it wasn't what he'd planned!

‘Pushed out.  Redundant.... Scrapped.’ by some unknown human hand.

 

*

Six months later, in the 'local' Barry said to Jack

‘You know young Jason went to Perth? I hear he's coming back.

He couldn't pay his mortgage, so the bank sold up his home.

He's young; he'll be O.K. with better times for him to come.’

 

 

‘Margie's had a struggle; she's cleaning offices at night.

Me?’ said Barry, ‘I'm still looking.  I'm sure we'll be alright.

The wife, she's crook and needs some special care.

We’ll take a trip one day I hope, when there’s cash to spare.’

 

 

‘Smiling Fred?  He died.  A note stuck on the fridge said he was calling it

a day.

Work was all he'd known since his wife had passed away.

He loved those old machines, kept them running just like tops.

The only mates he'd ever made, left when the factory stopped.’

 

‘He’d lost his whole identity.  He was a working bloke.

The transition was too sudden, done with a single stroke.

His family didn’t understand, although his note had tried

to say, that there are blokes, despite their age,

who get more from work, than just their wage.’

 

                                                                                                     (C) 2014