I had a dream that I was applying for a job as a servant in a Victorian household. I was going to be some sort of domestic help, working closely with the wife and kids, whom I had already charmed. I had an interview with the husband now.
Now, I seem to have been a person who had time traveled from the future, or in some way I had anachronistic expectations of employment.
The job was 14 hours/day. I was to make a pittance. Also, near the end of our discussion, the husband explained that I was to be charged a 10% “employment fee”. I was like “What is this employment fee?” He was like “It’s customary.” I was like “Well, that sounds like an unacceptable custom. You’re already not offering enough for this job.” Dude, that dude was livid. He did not want a servant that talked back.
Well, fortunately, the wife was nearby and yelled at the husband to waive the fee in this case. The husband grudgingly relented. So I got the job, making more than everybody else.
I talked to another servant about the employment fee. She was like “Yeah, it’s customary.” I was like “Dude, these wages and working conditions are intolerable.” She was like “Yeah, well you’re lucky you have the lady’s ear. The rest of us would be dismissed if we spoke up like that.”
At this point, I proposed that we form a union. Over the next weeks, I had secret meetings with the rest of the staff, and we agreed to go on strike on a particular day.
The family sat down for a dinner, and the dinner never came. The husband came storming into the kitchen and found us sitting and eating the food ourselves. All throughout the house, things like this were happening. We were like “dude, you depend on us. You better listen to our demands.”
Soon, negotiations were held. The husband brought the mayor in to aid in negotiations. Negotiations were going surprisingly well! I was quite surprised!
Then, the husband and the mayor excused themselves.
Soon, someone outside was firing a rifle in through the window. Aha. It seems that the negotiations were just a trick to get the leaders in the same room together. Outside, the lords of all the nearby manors had gathered with their hunting rifles and were firing at us.
I grabbed an antique gun - a showpiece - off the wall and tossed it to Sigh (who was also working at this house). We didn’t think it’d actually fire anything, but we thought it might scare them to see us armed.
Well, it turned out it was actually an antique rocket launcher. The shooting from outside had stopped. Were they all dead? Did they run away scared?
We’ll never know, cuz I woke up.