I grew up in a midwestern union town...nothing but factories. I didn't even dare approach the subject of wanting to go to college with my father or grandfather, as they saw it as my wanting to join the white shirts...management, engineers, professionals. Who the hell do you think you are?? was all heard in reply.
You couldn't breathe unless you had a union card and the various unions were dominated by either certain families or certain ethnic groups. I had no chance of becoming, say, an electrician, or a steel worker among many others. I could have become a carpenters apprentice but I was more likely to be a coal miner, as many of my family were miners.
I lived in the deadeningly dull neighborhoods of the workers and felt the sickening humiliation of seeing my father and neighbors kiss up to the union stewards, who everyone knew provided upward mobility, whether it was deserved or not, based on how far you could shove your nose up his rectum. I lived through the strikes and listened to the endless Us-against-them speeches.
When I was a child I did childish things and believed their crap. When I became an adult, I put away childish things and realized what they were and saw where they were taking us. They were handing over our manufacturing capability first to Japan then the remaining developing world by not working with management, developing employees, or bending with the times, while demanding more for less. It was irrational and was obvious they just wanted power and money.
I fled, as soon as I could, to Florida, an open shop state, where bosses just wanted you to show up and work hard. I could do that. If I made them money, I didn't have to be their friend or kiss up at all. The rules were simple, measureable, and real. In time, it allowed me to become a white shirt and build a business of my own that provides jobs to others.
I stood over my dying father several years ago, in my white shirt and tie, and all he could say was I never really knew what it was like to work hard. He spoke out of ignorance but I don't really blame him as much as I do the ignorant world he worked in.