Working at the "dock" is not an easy job. Every day, a large amount of cargo needs to be unloaded or loaded, and work starts almost from dawn until late at night.
The salary for this job is very low, but the intensity is high. Therefore, it's difficult to recruit enough manpower. This led to the clause in the agreement that requires compensation of fifty yuan if one cannot complete half a year's work. As for why it's only half a year instead of one or two years or even longer, there are reasons behind it. This high-intensity work may only bring people tiredness in the initial stage, but as time goes on and with lack of nutritional supplements and no comfortable rest environment - steam locomotives passing by at night - these porters will inevitably develop some physical problems such as occupational diseases like bone deformities.
According to capitalists' thinking, these sick workers can no longer bear heavy porter jobs; spending money on them for food and lodging has become an unprofitable behavior. The only way out for these workers is to be kicked out with one foot.
However, things are never so smooth because there is a union present. Unions make all capitalists feel nauseous and want to vomit big mouthfuls; they hate unions yet cannot do without them. They can only hold their noses and try their best to make themselves feel better while avoiding certain rules under imperial law and divine law.
For example: occupational diseases count as industrial injuries; either the station pays a lot of money for sending workers away or keeps supporting them until they reach forty-five years old.
Even paying five cents more would be considered painful flesh-cutting behavior by capitalists who have difficulty keeping those workers alive! Therefore, stations sign agreements every six months instead of any other period lengthening beyond that point.
After expiration date arrives，the station will issue certificates allowing those who request renewal after body checkups confirming that they are not sick or have bone deformities to continue signing the agreement. As for those workers who develop physical problems, they will be kicked out directly after fulfilling their contracts regardless of whether they suffer from occupational diseases due to heavy physical work at the station.
At that time, unions have no power and excuse to fight against stations.
Of course, Dulin wouldn't know any of this. In Mr. Krynn's eyes, he was just a fool from the countryside who would be thrown away after six
When they were in the countryside, the brothers would sometimes steal Mr. Kesma's cigarettes. Taking a puff and blowing smoke was not necessarily for pleasure, but purely for entertainment. When faced with a stranger offering him a cigarette, he hesitated for a moment before accepting it and thanking them: "Thank you for the cigarette, I'm Dulin."
The man named Xiong took out a match and struck it against Dulin's collar, causing thick white smoke to rise up immediately. Both of them tilted their heads to avoid the supposedly toxic smoke before approaching the burning match to light their cigarettes.
After shaking off the match onto the ground and stomping on it several times, Xiong deeply inhaled from his cigarette while exhaling smoke as he said: "Smoking is prohibited at train stations; there have been disasters where goods caught fire due to smoking." He extended his hand with a grin on his face and said: "My name is Grav; I'm glad to be your colleague."
Dulin shook hands with Grav and felt much closer to him instantly. The charm of socializing lies in simple conversations or sharing that may not even qualify as gifts but can quickly bring two strangers closer together.
"I am honored too, sir," Dulin replied politely while taking another puff from his cigarette which caused him to cough immediately after.
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Grav laughed loudly as he patted Dulin's back saying: "Don't use 'sir'; only high society figures do that. Just call me by my name instead. By the way, strong enough?" He removed his mouth from holding onto his cigarette between two fingers then waved it around in front of Dulin.
After coughing for quite some time, Dulin finally recovered himself but dared not take another drag from this particular brand of cigarette again asking: "What exactly is inside this thing?"
Grav seemed very happy and proud as he replied: "Apart from a small amount of tobacco leaves, there are dried straw and loofah cut into strips, blood orange peel, and a tiny bit of chili pepper skin ground into flour."
"Leave that poor guy alone, Grav. Who can handle your stuff?" Some workers had already noticed the situation and immediately started laughing and shouting.
Grav didn't care at all. He put the cigarette back in his mouth and glanced at them, "This guy can handle it!" He nudged Dulin with his arm, almost causing him to lose balance and fall to the ground. "What do you think? Is it good?"
In fact, most of the cigarettes that workers smoke are self-made with added ingredients because they don't earn enough money to afford expensive cigarettes. They usually pick up leftover cigarette butts from the station and collect the tobacco inside. If these tobacco leaves were simply rolled into cigarettes, they could only make two or three a day from picking up cigarette butts all day long. But if some ingredients were added, they could make a whole pack.
The upper class has its own extravagance while lower-class society has its own survival wisdom. After trying many things, most people have come to accept dried loofah silk and dried blood orange peel as their preferred additives for their homemade cigarettes. As for Grav's addition of straw and chili powder...that was just his personal preference.
Dulin looked at Grav's sincere eyes and hopeful expression. The kind-hearted country boy had no choice but to take another puff of the cigarette despite feeling sickly white-faced afterwards. "Not bad," he said before coughing several times which made Grav burst out laughing.
Dulin could tell that Grav wasn't making fun of him; he was genuinely happy.
At this point, a steam locomotive in the distance began whistling as workers started packing up their tools on the platform waiting for unloading.
When the steam locomotive arrived at the station, Dulin realized that one "standard cargo" did not refer to just one package or bag or box; there were many more than that - about four cubic meters according to what he knew from his dream experience! In fact, if it only took one trip back-and-forth to earn two cents, the station would have been overcrowded with workers a long time ago.
Grav handed Dulin two ropes tied together and helped him put them over his shoulders in an X-shape behind his back. "If you use brute force, you can only run five or six times before losing your strength. By using this rope to hold onto the corners of the box, you can leverage your whole body's strength and make it easier without hurting yourself," he said while punching Dulin's shoulder. "You still have a lot to learn, brother!"
The morning work was relatively easy as there weren't many steam locomotives rushing through yet. Mr. Krien scolded workers while arranging schedules from 1 pm until 7 pm when he finally had time to catch his breath.
Dulin's arms were already trembling by then; he couldn't even clench his fists anymore as he sat at the dining table holding a piece of bread and drinking meat soup that was placed on the table.
According to what other workers told him, Dulin earned twelve cents today! If he kept up this pace for the rest of the month, he could earn five dollars and one cent which was considered good for a beginner like him.
At this moment, Grav walked over with a bowl full of meat soup and several pieces of bread in hand. He sat next to Dulin and tore into his bread hungrily stuffing it into his mouth so much so that it made speaking difficult for him: "Don't take a shower tonight; just sleep after taking off your clothes or else you won't be able to do anything tomorrow."
Dulin believed what experienced people said but Grav didn't say anything absurd except not taking showers at night which wasn't too hard for him to accept either way. However, he did ask Grav about something else: "Mr.Krien told me that union representatives will come looking for me in a few days and ask me not to join the union. Should I join?"
Grav immediately looked at him with contempt, turned his head to look at the window on the second floor that was lit up and sneered: "Don't listen to that liar! If you don't join the union, who can guarantee our rights as low-level workers? He just wants to take advantage of you. Besides, is fifty cents for membership fees too expensive?"
Dulin nodded and finished his meat soup in one gulp even though he found a piece of meat as big as a small fingernail inside.
"I understand!"