Boredom, one of the ‘minor’ and ‘non-cathartic’ Ugly Feelings that fascinate Sianne Ngai (2005), is the lot of the service sector worker. Whether bored by the repetition of script — of which ‘have a nice day’ is the most clichéd, and ‘who’s next please?’ the most common — or bored by the absence of stimulation, boredom is an ordinary state for many.

In small outlets, without a brand-driven manager pumping inspiration into the atmosphere, there is one nice way to respond. Accept the silence, and steal 40 winks.

References

1. Ngai, S. (2005) Ugly Feelings Har­vard Uni­ver­sity Press. Cam­bridge, Mass. and London.

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* and so I admit they were not ‘seasonal workers’, properly defined, being employed by the security firms for other events; I used the term ‘seasonal work’ to make the point that many work tasks are not jobs for life.

** a non-commercialised version of Halloween, and (more devilishly) Mischief Night goes way back to a time before fancy dress shops were around to hire out sexy Zombie costumes.

It’s the afternoon rush hour on the London tube. There are at least three people asleep in the row of seats opposite me, the physical impact of work (I’m assuming) visible in their faces and postures. It’s already been a long day.

The beginnings of a banner in the creative area

During term time days quickly gained a routine, involving large evening meetings as well as smaller morning ones both concerning our strategy. Here tasks were decided upon and divided up between the group to volunteers who would report back on them at the next meeting. By the end of the first full day it was decided to form taskforces for certain areas such as communication through Twitter and Facebook, direct action, and poster and banner making. There was some resistance to this separation of tasks at first for fear of creating static committees and wider divisions within the Occupation. It was decided that these groups should remain fluid in order to allow new members of the Occupation to join in, and thereby stop any entrenched division of labour and also maintain lines of communication across them. Within these groups there was never a discussion of ability. Instead, anyone who wished to do a task or help with something was welcomed to do so regardless of previous skills. This worked both to enable the development of new skills but also their synthesis with existing skills, as well as the deployment of skills in ways which were unexpected by allowing the space for this creativity both in actions and ways of working. This was something refreshing for many students used to working individually or in highly prescriptively organised ways.

Interestingly despite the organisation of these tasks there was a stronger resistance to the organisation of domestic tasks, with many preferring instead to see that these activities would simply get done on an individual and informal basis. As such, the majority of these daily tasks would be carried out individually or by a small group of people, apart from large clean-up operations which were conducted most mornings, or when members of the Occupation had simply had enough of the coffee cups littering the building. This was in part a reflection of the group resistance to any pressure for certain members to perform certain jobs through the enforced expectations of a cleaning rota or cooking duties for instance. Although this became an effective system where the tasks did get completed it still lead to an unequal system where some spent a significant amount of time cleaning up after others. This small group, which would do regular water collecting, cleaning and on some occasions cooking, was composed of both males and females although women were often more strongly represented within these tasks and in expressing concern over these tasks, bringing them up in the organisational meetings. The group dynamics concerning these issues were giving rise to a certain amount of resentment from those conducting them leading to an unsustainable situation in the long term. In many ways resistance to organising these tasks and so taking responsibility for ensuring the equal spread of work can be seen as reflective of society as a whole. This created a disappointing situation where despite other efforts to challenge wider norms, forms of domestic work were still seen as lowly making them beneath discussion and organisation.

Group meetings

After several days of lobbying we were able to open up one of the downstairs conference rooms. This became a quieter sleeping area at night and our study space during the day. This was felt to be a huge priority of the Occupation due to its aims but also due to the timing of the actions which took place just days before many students’ end of term deadlines, so we recognised the need to help students work for their study commitments whilst making their political statement. This was demonstrated in the image here which shows that whilst meetings were ongoing some were unable to tear themselves away from their work but at the same time continued to contribute to the decision making process. Notice members on laptops continuing to work whilst also contributing to decision making but also the use of laptops within the meetings to check information or write notes.

The space provided more than a chance to do the solitary work often expected for essays. We saw many students working together in ways sadly often not witnessed within our current higher education system, with students from first year to PhD being able to help one another. One particular example was an experienced French speaker and two native French speakers helping to coach someone who had taken a French wild module and was feeling unsure about his chances of success in an upcoming test. Visitors and occupiers in the Senate also built their own library, and encouraged seminars both by staff and students. The feeling was very much focused on attempting to recreate the Senate as a free space of learning. The emphasis lay on an encouragement for all to join in as much as they could. There was never a compulsion to do so, instead there was an understanding that all would contribute what they could, however they could.

After two weeks of Occupation free access to the building and connection to the internet was denied by the University after the commencement of legal proceedings. From this point on, numbers were radically reduced as were the activities of those inside. Communication needed to be organised around a phone tree of close outside supporters and dongles with reduced internet access. The key work inside at this point noticeably shifted towards courting the media where the focus was on communication and publicity. Interviews were even conducted through windows and articles were written in national newspapers. This came to a head with the decision to end the Occupation attracting wide media attention. Yet the question of future actions was also discussed as those inside undertook a large scale clean-up operation to return the building to its former meeting room character and plans began to be made for meetings for the new term.

These working patterns were particular to this space providing a fluid dynamic but one which was reflective of wider hierarchies of intellectual, political and domestic work. Now that the group is working outside of this space it remains to be seen if the same fluidity and lack of demands can be made of individuals for tasks and how stable organisation will take place.

*All photos have been allowed for public use and where possible the photographer’s permission has been granted for their use within this post.

I’d been told on a previous visit (at the wrong time to see any fish) that there are different rhythms to the fishing: the smallest boats come in at around 6.30pm and the larger ones which fish at night arrive back before dawn. ‘Are you arriving or leaving?’ I ask a man on a boat with a light on and the engine chugging. ‘Stiamo per partire. We’re just off,’ he replies. But there’s time for a chat.

I’m getting used to the topics and tone of these exchanges. There’s a tension in the air as the boat is readied for departure in the dark, and the weather, which is mild and calm for now, is an ever-present and unpredictable companion. They take the small boat. It’s just one of so many different judgements to be made, even before they set off. The boat is exposed and has just enough room for the two fishermen and a decent haul. ‘We don’t have higher-level qualifications,’ the skipper says, ‘but there’s a lot of skill in all this.’ He talks about the nets and how to manage them, the boat’s instruments and how to interpret them, and of course how to read the weather and decide when it’s time to return to shore, and how to manage the crew in times of danger and ensure everyone gets back safely. Then there’s the difficulty of getting a good price for what you’ve caught, even to get people to appreciate the difference between fish caught like this and those that are farmed or imported. It’s a hard way to make a living, and a dying tradition, he says.

‘What time will you be back in the morning?’ I ask
‘At 4.30 or 5am,’ he replies.
‘I’ll try and come.’
‘Do you struggle to get up early then?’ He’s casually making a distinction between us.
‘In somma…’

Another fisherman who’s not going out that night but who’s hanging around the docks says: ‘I’ll probably be around too. I can’t sleep on land.’

I resolve to make an effort. With an early night, I can manage an early start, I think. I set the alarm for just after 4…

Thursday, 2 December
It takes until nearly half past 4 to drag myself from the bed but I’m back at the docks by 10 to 5. The boats are already in.

‘We came back at 4’, the skipper I was talking to last night explains, ‘I didn’t like what the weather was doing.’ They’re washing octopus, squid, sole, prawns, and the odd scorfano (scorpion fish) on board, then packing them into open polystyrene boxes and lifting them ashore. The sale has already been arranged, and there’s a man waiting. He produces a set of scales from his van, and there’s some mumbled negotiation.

‘So what now?’ I ask the skipper. ‘Is your working day done?’
‘For now’, he replies. His mate will clean the boat. ‘Do you want some sole?’
‘Sure!’ I get given what feels like 2 or 3 kilos. ‘Thank you!’
‘When there’s enough, we can give some away.’
‘So when do you next go out?’
‘Friday,’ he says.
‘Maybe see you Saturday morning then, but a bit earlier I think!’

I go home and back to bed, starting the day again a couple of hours later – a day in which I know I’ll have a good dinner!

Saturday, 4 December
It was pretty windy last night and I wonder if there will have been much fishing. But I decide to get up and go and see anyway. This turns out to be the coldest – and earliest – morning I’ve known since I’ve been here. 5 degrees, a street sign tells me, at 4.30am. I don’t see the boat from earlier in the week but there’s another, larger one just in.

‘How was the night?’ I ask.
‘Fredda. Cold.’
‘How much colder is it at sea?’
‘Un bel po. Quite a bit.’
‘Where did you go?’
‘Vicino. Tempo brutto. Close by. Bad weather.’

The man I am talking to looks and sounds exhausted. It was a rough night after at the end of a long week. And the catch was small. It takes less than 5 minutes to load it into the waiting van for it to be taken to the wholesale market.

I’m about to head home when I notice there’s a caffè open on the Via Roma opposite the docks. I go in and order a caffè latte.

‘Do you always open a 5am?’ I ask.
‘No, at 4.30,’ replies a very professional-looking barrista.
‘My goodness, that is an early start every day,’ I remark.
‘You get used to it,’ he smiles.

I drink a perfect coffee then go home, gratefully, and back to bed.

The space at San Benedetto is clearly structured, with solid marble counters and displays arranged in aisles and around the edges of the hall. The floor is very clean and dry, unusually so for a fish market. (For a contrasting account of London’s fish market, see A Day’s Work at Billingsgate.) There is a large variety of Mediterranean fish but to my surprise, some Atlantic fish too, such as sole or salmon. There was local sole too, if a little smaller. It was quite literally still flapping around on the counter. No need to check the eyes to assess the freshness of that! There’s a distinction between sellers of shellfish, wet fish, smoked, and frozen which I assume is part of the regulatory structure (and is common in other places too). There’s quite a range from large to small fish, from what’s considered to be prestigious to the ordinary: swordfish, tuna, bream, bass, gurnard, mullet, mackerel and much more. The shellfish includes local prawns, arselle (a type of clam found locally), small green crabs, the occasional lobster, mussels, and a kind of snail. Plus bottarga of course, the dried roe of mullet (or tuna), something Sardinia is famous for, ground to add to spaghetti, or bought whole then cut into small pieces and dressed with oil and lemon as an antipasto.

When I asked where specific fish came from, I was not only told that something was ‘Sarda’ but that it was caught off a particular stretch of coast at Villasimius or Cagliari for example. There’s a code that’s used uniformly in the displays that explains not only the country of provenance of the fish, but also whether it was caught at sea or farmed. Last week at a smaller market in Cagliari, I bought a local octopus and a squid from the Atlantic, probably near South Africa the fishmonger said, but brought in by air and on ice (but not frozen). (I didn’t ask the ‘where did it come from’ question until afterwards and hadn’t yet worked out the code…) I’m interested in the ‘length’ of the socio-economic process that brings fish from sea to table but hadn’t expected to see the produce of both such a short and a long one literally alongside one another in my local market…

Instead of taking pictures on my first visit to the main market at San Benedetto (it would have felt intrusive and I wanted to just look first), I decided to do a short (one minute) recording while walking around which you can listen to here: san benedetto 1 oct 2010. The recording highlights the presence of three distinct layers of sound that it’s hard to distinguish between when hearing them in real time (Makagon and Neumann, 2008). There is a low murmur of people talking, a collective sound in which it’s not possible to identify specific exchanges. There are knives being sharpened, a high-pitched screech that conjures up the image of a large blade. And there are the fishmongers making their sales pitches, playfully at times, and as much for the amusement of their peers as in an attempt to gain custom it seems. Indeed, humour is an integral part of the life of the market (Porcu, 2005). ‘Venga che imbroglio anche a lei!’ one exclaims provocatively. Come on so I can rip you off too!

There’s already a great selection of photographs of the fish market, the fishmongers and customers here (most of the first half are of the fish section, the rest of other parts of the market). And for close-ups of the fish, click here. And I expect I’ll be writing more about all this after my next visit…

References
1. Makagon, D and M Neumann (2008) Recording Culture: Audio Documentary and the Ethnographic Experience. London: Sage.
2. Porcu, L (2005) ‘Fishy business: Humour in a Sardinian fish Market’, Humour 18(1): 69–102.

“The work trousers always go at the zip”, he says.

At least the trousers can be taped. The thumb caught in machinery isn’t so readily fixable.

You need these…	and these…
and these…	and these…
and these…	and these…
and these…

And once those neat piles on the ground have been rendered vertical, you need gear…

to climb…

But take your time.

The Photographic Unit of the Farm Security Administration / Office of War Information took thousands of photographs during the decade from 1935 – 1945. They reflected all aspects of American life in the period, not just work, but the online collection (of over 160,000 photographs) has a ‘search by subject’ facility. The collection includes, for example, Dorothea Lange’s well-known pictures of a migrant worker family’s living conditions.

The New Deal Administration provided much of its relief to the nation’s unemployed in the form of work relief. The New Deal Network has an extensive collection of photographs, searchable by subject or by agency responsible, as well as other primary source material.

Some of the public work schemes allowed white-collar workers, or those in the creative arts, to use their existing skills. Graphic designers were employed to produce ‘public information’ posters, some directly relating to the world of work. There is a detailed index by subject.

The Federal Writers Project for unemployed writers carried out a number of projects with reference to the world of work. For example, they conducted interviews with ‘ordinary’ Americans to capture their life histories, including information on education, qualifications and work. For an account of the Federal Writers’ Project, and a sample of the life histories they collected, see this online collection.

The same project also interviewed many elderly African-Americans who had been born into slavery, thus offering an important window into the experiences of enforced labour.

The Farm Security Administration ran a number of camps for migrant workers, many of whom were attracted to California in the hope of obtaining seasonal work in agriculture. There is an online collection of various sources describing the daily experience of residents of these camps.