The Party of Working People

I am a working person, and I feel unwelcome at this party. The party of ‘working people’. I’m standing around the periphery, not really mingling, not sure what I’m doing here. I don’t know anyone. They don’t seem my sort of working people.

Because it’s not a party for my dad, who’s 76 and no longer works (though he worked all his life). And if he’s not welcome at this party then neither am I.

It’s not a party for my friend, who could no longer work because she became too sick. She had to give up and felt let down and sabotaged by her own body, and then suddenly felt she had no value, and no-one spoke up for her and she could not speak up for anyone any more. Though she had spent her life doing this, when she could. If she’s not welcome then how can I be?

It’s not a party for my client, whose life was turned upside down by what should have been no more than an inconvenience, but led to him laying down his tools in 2021 and then sinking into despair as everything fell apart. Having to ask, having to plead, living a life that was more existence and suffering than rewarding and joyful. He did nothing wrong but he’s been cast out. If he’s not welcome then neither am I.

And what about those of us who lost their jobs? Through no fault of their own? One day, a working life, the next all gone. Dismissed. Redundant. Cuts, Restructuring. Yesterday, you were useful but today, you are unaffordable and they are trimming again, but they thank you for your service and wish you all the best. They are terrified of ending up like you and doing everything they can to save themselves from your fate. If you are no longer welcome then neither am I.

And what about the carer, who had no choice but to stop and care for the person they love. The person who cannot manage anymore to do everything and sometimes anything for themselves. Do you think that loved one ever wanted to be in that position? Do you think the carer, who has more to give but gives all to their loved one doesn’t deserve a place in your party, your gathering, your association? They work harder than you will ever do, but oh yes, they are unpaid and therefore unacknowledged. How can they not be welcome? Neither am I then.

And the single parent, with the little one to look after. The easiest to blame, and shame, and ‘got given a free house’ and has ‘the latest mobile phone’ and ‘Sky’ — how dare they? Where’s the other person who was there for conception but then did a runner and disappeared into the mist, free to live their life without the responsibility. This parent cannot work and if they could they could not afford childcare, and even if they could why should they? Why shouldn’t they have the right to be with their little one while they are little because they won’t stay little forever. Not welcome in your party? Then neither am I.

You might invite me in. You might try to make me feel welcome and try to convince me that you are speaking for people like me, and that you have my Best Interests At Heart but I know now that if the worst happens to me or my loved ones, and everything comes to a grinding halt, you will show me to the door. You will not value me. You will not speak of me. You will not speak up for me. Because you are the party of ‘working people’ and if I lose the only value I could possibly have to you, I understand that I will be ushered away, and unless I can pick myself up from whatever befell me, then I will stay in the shadows.

It’s only semantics, you might say. But when you don’t include the sick, the disabled, the pensioners, the carers, the single parents, the everyone who can’t work and the everyone who used to work and the everyone who wants to work and even those that don’t want to work for whatever reason they may have, then you become too exclusive for the likes of me. And that’s not a party I want to go to.