The news of the BHP strike crackled through the dusty streets of the recycling yard like wildfire. Mickey, the grizzled owner with a face etched by years of squinting at scrap metal, slammed his fist on the counter. “Unions are gangsters,” he grumbled. “Strikes are business, nothin’ more.”
Across the way, Sarah, a teenager with a nose ring and a cart overflowing with plastic bottles, stopped sorting. “I’m doing this for the environment,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. The clinking of aluminum cans filled a gap in the conversation as Henry, a wiry man with a weathered canvas bag slung over his shoulder, nudged Mickey. “Copper looks like it’s going to be profitable for a while,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Mickey snorted. “Yeah, if you can get your hands on it. But that mine’s a fortress.” Just then, a hulking figure with a shaved head and a menacing scar down his cheek sauntered in. “Heard there’s some easy pickings at the mine tonight,” the thug rasped, his eyes scanning the room. “You know where any copper’s at?”
Mickey threw him a withering look. “We ain’t in the business of crime here, pal. Besides, this ain’t your first rodeo, you know the risks.” The thug scoffed and stalked out, leaving a tense silence in his wake.
Henry leaned back in his chair, chuckling. “He’ll get caught sooner or later. You know, honest work ain’t glamorous, but at least you sleep at night.” A young boy, barely taller than his overflowing cart of aluminum cans, shuffled up to the counter. “How much will this be worth from tomorrow?” he asked hesitantly.
Mickey grinned, the tension leaving his face. “Hold on there, champ,” he said, grabbing a pair of gloves and a scale. “Let’s see what we got here. Every little bit counts, especially when the big boys are playin’ their games.”
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the yard, the clinking of metal and the clattering of bottles created a strange symphony. The strike might be causing chaos for the big players, but for the people on the fringes, it was just another day in the game - a game where every scrap counted.
Escondida strike: Could a union halt production at the world’s biggest copper mine?
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