Editor’s Note: Read Part I here.

The Clock is Ticking

We returned to the bargaining table several days later and began by telling management we had nothing further to discuss until they withdrew three additional proposals:

• Deleting the guarantee of two Sundays off per month

• Forfeiting the right to argue grievances based on past practice

• Permitting management to drug test at will without probable cause

Sands turned to look Dave Lincoln in the eye and asked for a caucus. Upon their return, the three insidious proposals were withdrawn. We spent the next several hours reviewing the union’s proposals, with Sands offering token concessions regarding contract language.

The session resumed following our lunch break. “Your proposals ask for substantial wage increases,” said Sands. “Please quantify that for us. How much do you have in mind?”

“It’s your client’s money,” I responded, “How much are they willing to pay for an early contract?” I never make the first offer regarding money. It defines the remaining negotiations as bargaining down from that amount.

“We’re not prepared to make an economic proposal at this time,” said Sands. With nothing else to discuss, the parties adjourned.

The following week I conducted a plant tour accompanied by local president Linda Wilkerson. I always negotiate expansive visitation rights for the union rep in my contracts and then make the most of them. I walk the shop floor from one end to the other on all shifts, accompanied by a local officer. I believe organizing is a boots-on-the-ground vocation. I’ve often been appalled when inserted into crisis situations to learn the business agent either hadn’t toured the plant in years, or on rare visits, sat in the breakroom drinking coffee with friends.

Linda and I stopped to shake hands and speak with every union member, discussing negotiations and taking notes about their individual issues. We also visited nonmembers and signed a few cards. During our first shift rounds, we were approached by a young man named Brian; a loyal but somewhat immature union member who lived for the thrill of a good fight.

“I’ve been speaking with some of the members,” he said, “and we want you to lead a demonstration into Dave Lincoln’s office.” I thought quickly and decided it was a good idea, if executed correctly. The NLRB would consider it protected concerted activity if done during a lunch period and didn’t interfere with production. Brian told me his lunch break started in twenty minutes.

“Have everybody who breaks with you meet me at the entrance to the canteen,” I told him. “We have to do this professionally or it will cost us credibility. We can’t come across as an unruly mob. This is about a show of numbers and support. I’ll make a presentation on behalf of the members.  Folks can clap, or shout their approval, but no insulting remarks or threats. The wrong comment can actually hurt our bargaining position. Are you with me?”

“As always, brother,” he replied.

A half hour later, I led seventy-five angry workers into the office of a startled human resource manager. “I want you all the hell out of my office right now!” he exclaimed.

“Nothing personal,” I told him, “but these people are on break and we have a legal right to be here.  You have two choices. You can walk out and show the workers you’re not willing to talk to them, or hear us out.”  I presented the union’s bargaining position in emphatic but civilized language as the crowd applauded and cheered.

Linda and I resumed our plant tour until a supervisor informed us Dave Lincoln wanted to see us immediately. We returned to his office and found him visibly shaken. I was surprised by his level of distress, given he was a veteran player who should have taken this in stride.

“That was not only absolutely unacceptable but immoral!” he proclaimed. “I demand you leave this plant immediately and not return until I give you permission.”

“I’m not going anywhere. The Plant Access article of the contract gives me a legal right to visit the production area. You want to push it and I’ll file Labor Board charges pursuant to Sections 8(a)1 and 2, for unilateral changes by the employer. I know you’re not personally responsible for the company’s bargaining strategy, but we just sent a message to your employers through you.”

Linda and I continued our walk down the plant aisles, shouting above the industrial noise to speak with our members.

During negotiations on August 10, it appeared our message was finally starting to get through.  BTR withdrew its proposals redefining the grievance process. Following lunch, Sands made an opening proposal on wage increases to begin when the new contract went into effect on January 22:

• 1st year – 40 cents

• 2nd year – 25 cents

• 3rd year – 25 cents

It was a credible opening proposal and I acknowledged it as such. It’s important not to be perceived as a hot head who argues no matter what’s on the table. Companies are successfully leveraged through a calculated stick-and-carrot approach. I left the room with the committee to caucus.

“People are saying we should demand over a dollar in the first year,” said Linda.  “I know it’s unrealistic, but we have to at least tell them we tried.” We returned to the table and countered with $1.35, 50 cents, and 50 cents.

With the September deadline looming, the parties convened for a double session on August 26 and 27.  We needed a tentative agreement by September 2, to allow for a two-day ratification process preceding Labor Day Weekend.

Management withdrew the remainder of its offensive proposals.  They agreed to provide a 401(k), health insurance during the first six months of medical leave, and improved funeral leave. But there was no further movement on wages. I acknowledged the progress in the subsequent leaflet but hammered the company on economics. A final two-day session was scheduled for the following week. I made it abundantly clear the union would not consider an extension.

The situation took a turn for the worse on Tuesday, September 2.  Sands had nothing new to offer except minor tweaks in contract language and remained firm on wages. “Early negotiations are over!” I told the company, and walked out with the committee. To guarantee our gesture was taken seriously, I packed my bags, checked out of the Holiday Inn and drove home.

An hour after arriving, I received a call from an irate Doug Jamison, the union’s North Carolina director. “I just got a call from BTR. They said you cancelled negotiations and left the hotel. Where the hell are you?!”

“That’s a silly question. You just called me at home and I answered the phone.”

“This ain’t no laughing matter,” he exclaimed, raising his voice. “Get in your car right now, go back there and do your damn job!! I’ll call and tell them you’re coming.”

“I’m not going anywhere and don’t undercut me by speaking to them again. Trust me; they’re gonna call me.”

“How do we know that? You have a contract to negotiate! Get back to Reidsville and do your damn job!”

“Listen Doug,” I said. “You’re talking to me, not Melvin (referring to a business agent with a poor reputation.) I know what the hell I’m doing.”

“Right now, I feel like I am talking to Melvin. You need to get back up there now!”

“I never blink first. They’re gonna call me,” I responded and hung up.

Two hours later my phone rang again but this time it was Dave Lincoln. “We’d appreciate it if you’d come back this afternoon. The company is willing to reconsider some of its positions.”

I grabbed my luggage, and returned to the Holiday Inn. Upon entering the conference room at 4pm, I was greeted by a tall, well dressed gentleman with graying hair. “I’m Bill Anderson, Vice President of Human Resources for BTR,” he said shaking my hand.

“Where’s Robert Sands?” I asked.

“He no longer represents us,” said Anderson. “I’ll be handling negotiations from now on.”

The parties took their respective seats at the conference table. “I’d appreciate it if we made this a short meeting and resumed tomorrow morning,” said the HR director. “I just got off an airplane and need some time to review both sets of proposals and meet with my team. For now, I’d like to get a sense of the union’s primary concerns.”

“You’ve painted yourself into a corner by hiring an Ogletree lawyer and giving him enough rope to hang all of you,” I replied. “You’ve got a bunch of angry workers and it’s going to take more to satisfy them now than it would have if you’d played it straight from the beginning.

“One thing you’ve got to understand about me. My goal isn’t to ratify by fifty percent plus one. I’ve got good instincts about a local’s threshold. If I don’t sense a nearly unanimous ratification, I’ll get out in front of the militants and recommend the contract be voted down. A split vote means a divided local for the next three years. I’d rather walk a picket line.”

I returned to the conference room at 9am and saw the committee munching on pastries and drinking coffee ordered by management. A few minutes later, we were all at the conference table. My bet had been right. The company needed an early contract far more than any other consideration. Anderson obviously knew how to tough bargain, but also when to give way when the clock was ticking. By 5pm, numerous new agreements had been reached:

• A 50 cent early raise upon ratification, then 40 cents and 30 cents the following years (good money in 1998)

• Significantly better health insurance, swapping the HMO for a preferred provider plan

• A ten percent company match to the new 401(k)

• An apprentice program for production workers who wished to enter maintenance

• Significant changes in the union’s favor to various contract articles

“I’m glad you came to the table,” I told Anderson, “and appreciate your flexibility. But I’m still concerned about worker sentiment at tomorrow’s ratification. Off the record, this is a good package. But I’m not sure it’s good enough to persuade folks to give up their second bite at the apple in November. However, I think at attractive signing bonus, along with the early raise will do it.”

After another hour of quibbling, a $500 signing bonus was added to the proposal, with the understanding it would only remain on the table through Friday.

The ratification meetings commenced on Thursday. Members listened politely as I reviewed the long list of improvements, and then the inevitable boisterous arguments ensued. A young woman proclaimed, “A $500 signing bonus?  That ain’t nothing. We should get a $500 bonus every month!”  Ballots were placed in a locked tool box with the opening taped shut between shifts.

At 8:30pm, Linda and Avra lingered with me in the empty conference room. Both were in a heightened state of anxiety. “What do we do if it gets voted down?” asked the local president.

“We walk out to the parking lot” I answered slowly and deliberately. “Then we tilt our heads up to the moon and go Awooooooo!” The both laughed and drove home feeling a bit less stressed.

Votes were tallied the following night. The contract had been ratified by over ninety percent. The business section of the Greensboro News & Record extolled the union’s accomplishments.

Ed Dones and Ron Huff have since passed away. Avra Waller retired. Linda Wilkerson remains the president of Local 2639 and will always be a dear friend.

Phil Cohen spent 30 years in the field as Special Projects Coordinator for Workers United/SEIU, and specialized in defeating professional union busters.  He’s the author of Fighting Union Busters in a Carolina Carpet Mill and The Jackson Project: War in the American Workplace.