The More Things Change

The younger generation is often portrayed as a bunch of binge-drinking layabouts. But dig down deep enough and you’re bound to uncover enough of them lying at the bottom of the pile desperate to rise up and better themselves. Or at least this was the pet theory I came to test out last week during a motivational visit to a factory in southeast London.

The first thing that strikes one upon entering Hamm Fistidd Fibres Ltd. is the professionalism of the employees as they go about their tasks. Factory work can be demoralising, and at the start of my motivational lecture in the staff canteen I ask whether any of them have ever contemplated suicide. To their credit no-one admits anything. Later on, plant director Dave Street takes me on a guided tour of the production line, which turns into a fascinating educational experience for me, not to mention inspiring. Whatever it is they do here one would never guess from the facial expressions of the guys who pull the levers up and down that this is probably the most monotonous and soul-destroying job they are ever likely to do in their lives.

Of course, it would be quite wrong to pretend that the UK manufacturing sector is what it once was. “China is our big worry,” admits plant director Dave. “The whole operation could go belly up at any minute.” But with a healthy dose of positive thinking it’s not inconceivable that, whenever that happens, these employees will be capable of adapting. Indeed, the rest of my visit turns up more than enough evidence to suggest that change is not only being embraced here, but relished.

Take Will Header, for example, a 75-year-old production line assistant who’s been here since the factory opened in 1945. No spring chicken, Will left school at the tender age of 12 without formal qualifications and soon adapted to the task of crawling through pools of radioactive waste to retrieve dead rats. However, nowadays he mostly runs errands and “makes tea for the young-uns”.

“In those days they said the radiation gave you a lovely suntan,” says Will. “The only protective clothing they gave us was swimming trunks and beach towels.” When I ask him whether he misses the rats his answer is refreshingly honest: “I’ll be dead in a couple of years.”

After a quick cuppa with Will, I meet up with the evening shift over a game of pool. When this place goes belly up, I joke, the local pubs and clubs certainly won’t be short of hustlers.

However, life on the shop floor isn’t without its hard luck stories. “Gracja” is 42 and has spent most of her adult life in institutions. She doesn’t remember her parents and shortly after escaping from a Swiss ski resort five years ago she began an affair with a man that she later discovered was a woman. It’s a heart-wrenching story, but I try to rally Gracja’s spirits by saying that unskilled workers like her will always be needed to do the jobs that nobody else wants. At least until those jobs get outsourced to China.

The day ends on an upbeat note when my PA reveals that, remarkably, I actually own this factory! Change never ceases to confound and take us by surprise. It's a positive message that won't get lost on these employees.

(Originally published 24 January 2008)