While riding my one-speed bicycle home from my summer job, I was threatened by union thugs - two big, muscular guys in a truck. I was barely old enough to work, outside the school year, with permission from the school, and I was small/skinny for my age. It was certainly less dangerous than gangbangers, but only because I did exactly what they told me to (quit my job, since I wouldn't join their corrupt union). Since then, I have been a strong believer in martial arts training as a backup, and in armed self-defense as the preferred option.
Once when I was between jobs I scabbed at a supermarket in the deli department during a strike. One evening I was the last to leave. There was a car in the dark at the far end of the parking lot; I didn't think anything of it. When I started to drive away the car, without lights on, followed me. I got about half way home and decided to see if I was being followed or just being paranoid, so I turned into a side street. The car followed. So instead of driving home I drove to police headquarters, about six blocks from home and parked. The car kept going as I gave the finger to the occupants (counted three heads).
This was before cell phones were in common use, so I couldn't call the cops to be ready to pull them over.
One summer when I was a teen I visited an uncle and his family in another distant city. After the summer I decided I would like to stay and my uncle got me a job at the biggest bakery in town. My job preparing bread pans(greasing) was the lowest of low with tremendous effects on my clothing, shoes to shirt. No sooner had I started then union goons got to my uncle that I hadn’t joined the union and paid my dues. My uncle got me off the hook by telling the goons that I would be working only that summer to get enough money for books and keep. Ever since I have had a bad memories of unions. My mother went through the early 1930s with union problems and my experience at the bakery let me understand some of her pain and tears.