Ulrich But what about the administrative and sales people.. are clerks and "account executives" railroaders too?
But what about the administrative and sales people.. are clerks and "account executives" railroaders too?
For the most part, they are not railroaders, they could be doing the same type jobs at insurance companies, bank, health providers - any number of other business types and not have their jobs changed in any material way.
Never too old to have a happy childhood!
Cool. So when is a railroader not a railroader? Obviously the people who work on the trains, the MOW people, the yardmasters, the mechanics, and the dispatchers are railroaders. And I guess the top brass are railroaders too as they'e the only ones ever awarded with the distinction "Railroader of the Year". But what about the administrative and sales people.. are clerks and "account executives" railroaders too?
That is a damn good find!
To the Railroaders:
We have a community and culture unlike any other. We live out on the rails in a strange brotherhood. We are cobbled from every background and together we are railroaders.
Many of us grew up together out here. We became men, women, parents, spouses; all while riding the rails and moving the freight. We miss our nights and weekends, holidays and family events. We sacrifice our sleep and comfort and health to provide for those we love and to keep our country supplied.
We spend days and weeks and months and years cramped up in tiny stinking boxes hurling through the darkness and fog and rain and snow. We often share more time time together than we do with anyone else.
We share experiences that no one from outside our brotherhood could ever understand. People hurl themselves and their vehicles in front of our trains accidentally or on purpose and we are there together dealing with the nightmares and the tragedy of the sights. We know no schedule and sleep in far flung cities more than we sleep in our own beds. We drop everything to run to the train yard and disappear down the tracks. We fight the brutal fatigue. We lose the friendships with people who will never understand the life.
In the decades we share together in our tiny boxes we see marriages made and broken, children born and raised. We see each other drunkenly jolly and sternly sober. Our families spend time together because they understand that mom or dad may or may not be there and that its just the way it goes.
We constantly make fun of each other. I've seen crowded rooms of men collectively roll their eyes when the one guy that we all know "just doesn't get it" walks into our midst. We nickname ourselves and keep each other's secrets. We take care of the guy who stayed out too late or who is sick but can't cut out. We watch each others backs and cover up our mistakes.
We share the feeling of screaming through small towns in the middle of the night ringing our bells, belching our black smoke, and blowing our horns. We control thousands of horsepower on any given day and will win nearly any fight against all other machines. We know what real power and grit and grime are all about.
Over the years we've seen management come and go and we are still here. We've had contracts and elections and here we are, still alive, and still fighting. We've fought some silly rules and skirted some others, and here we thrive. News will never travel faster than it does on the rails. We are a collection of old ladies sharing the latest gossip. In any crew room across the country the intimacies of our brotherhood are shared across battered old tables and steaming cups of coffee. Lies are told, laughs are bellowed, and age-old stories that we've all already heard are repeated again and again.
Our ranks are constantly being replenished from the bottom up. Fresh young faces wander into our yards and onto our trains looking lost and disoriented. They will become one of us. They will grow and mature into the brotherhood. I've seen meek and cowardly men join our crafts and transform, sometimes for the good and sometimes for the annoying, into the proud and the fierce. This life changes us.
We may fight and we may complain (there's no better complainer than a seasoned railroader) but we are something special that should never be underestimated or taken for granted. We have given ourselves to this thing and it means something. We are railroaders!
.....Joshua Jones (June 15 at 11:06pm · Chicago, IL)
Found the above on Facebook
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