Those who follow Ombre e Luci had come to know Efrem, a 46-year-old from Monopoli in Puglia, as a tireless worker. His volunteer service in the parish and his friendships through Fede e Luce are certainly his favorite pursuits, but what Efrem really loves is working. For a disabled person, holding a job is a far harder achievement than for anyone else. He had told us as much the last time he wrote in issue 155. Back then, we left him wrestling with the printing press at a small publishing house—call it around the middle of the 1400s. Now we find him at the end of the 1700s, caught up in the labor struggles of pre-Victorian England. The Industrial Revolution. Machines are replacing workers. And Efrem won't stand for it. He lost his job. He's angry. And he's written to his former colleagues to say so.
Dear director and colleagues, I am deeply sorry that I can no longer work with you at the publishing house. I wanted to let you know that I have found a small job in Monopoli at the Caritas fair-trade store. Every Wednesday morning I help organize all sorts of products on the shelves. They don't pay me yet, but at least I'm keeping busy. After all, I hold to the motto: "When one door closes, another opens." But I am moved by the memory of you colleagues and the laughter we shared, when Gianni would pick me up from home in his car. Truth be told, I am very sorry because despite my charitable spirit and my being precise and obedient, I don't believe you treated me right. I thought I was part of your team and that I mattered in my role, but instead I was replaced by a machine so quickly. I want to apologize to the director for that time I complained because there was no work and made him angry. My behavior wasn't professional either the day I slammed the door because I had gotten upset. I hope you are all well and that I find work soon that lasts longer. As for the rest of it, let's say no more.
With affection.
Efrem