Rallying the Troops

“You know, it was only twenty years ago that a woman would be asked to leave her teaching job if she was pregnant. My mother had to hide it until the summer holiday came along,” Proctor said. He was sitting at a bar around a circular table with his co-workers from the Global Warming Defense League (G.W.D.L.). There was Frieda, the secretary who was underpaid and overqualified. The Volunteers, who were all a little stoned and downing the free pitcher bought with the G.W.D.L.’s meager budget. And Dr. Hobart. He was a tall man, thin to the point of needing to gain weight, who carried himself with the air of a person who would talk about anything. Proctor liked Hobart well enough, but found himself wishing he would say something at this meeting. Here it was, the night before the big fundraising rally and Hobart had only bought them a few beers and congratulated them on doing such great jobs. “Or even homosexuals,” Fried added. “Ten years ago a person could’ve been fired just for being gay.” Hobart perked up when she spoke, nodding and smiling. The volunteers were all beginning to get fidgety. Proctor supposed it was from listening to old war veterans talk about causes that had been fought and won long ago. Finally, with that strange shared consciousness that people who aren’t being paid seem to possess, the volunteers all got up and moved to the pool table. There was a brief silence as the remaining employees all looked at one another. “Do you think we should say something to the Volunteers? Like try to be on time for once or threaten to not sign their community service hours?” Proctor said. Frieda looked a little embarrassed for Hobart but only curled her finger around the beer bottle. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m just tired of busting their balls about it. It’s just not like it used to be back when we were their age. Back then, people would be lined up to protest. You couldn’t stop change back then. Now, here we are working for this global warming group and I have to yell just to get a kid to show up for free booze,” Hobart said. He was leaning on his elbows with a tired look in his eye. “Well shit man, now I’m glad you didn’t talk,” Proctor muttered. Frieda stood up and went to go get another beer. “Do you ever feel like we’re just…we’re just some old vets talking about past battles? Like there is this new battle to be fought, and all we’re doing is talking about the ones we’ve already won?” Hobart asked.