It seems only sensible in both human and economic terms to protect workers from injury at the workplace, and hundreds of laws are on the books to ensure that this is the case. But one young warehouseman trying to take advantage of these laws found that they require extraordinary patience -- and that the remedy they offer is thin soup indeed. PNS contributor Raj Jayadev is the Silicon Valley editor for YO! Youth Outlook, a publication by and about Bay Area youth published by Pacific News Service.

This is the story of one warehouseman who filed a claim against the country's biggest employer and won.

And lost.

In 1997, I was one of some 300 workers assembling and packing printers in the Hewlett Packard warehouse here. No one actually worked for HP, however. We were officially employed by Manpower Staffing Services, the temp agency.

I worked at the start of the line. We would grab half-made printers off pallets delivered by forklifts, place them on a conveyer belt, insert formatters and screws, then send them on. Over and over -- each line of 30 had to assemble and pack over 1,000 printers a day.

The work required strong hands, quick feet, and a back flexible enough to take all that twisting, bending, and carrying. But it also seemed I was having trouble breathing. None of the others were surprised to hear this. They told me about nosebleeds, asthma, and similar problem and said it was part of the job.

Then one day, there was a temporary shutdown. Too keep us occupied, our supervisor asked me, as the volunteer safety committee rep, to lead a "safety meeting." Usually this meant making sure everyone was wearing their smocks and had their hair tied back to avoid contaminating the products.

Instead, I asked what sort of health and safety concerns people had at work. This was a new question, so everyone stood silent a while. Then, from the middle of the sea of blue smocks, Barbara cleared her throat and said, " Yah, my asthma has been acting up a lot lately, and I keep getting that bronchitis."

As heads nodded in empathy, Raquel spoke of similar problems, then the idea caught fire. Over half the line workers spoke emotionally about recurring respiratory illnesses. This naturally led to talk of the bad air quality at work.

As safety representative, I asked for an air quality check. The response was, "No inspection is needed. It's just the season, lots of pollen in the air." No one thought that was true, but we got the same answer every time we asked.

Then I found a worker advocacy organization called the Santa Clara Center for Occupational Safety and Health. They told me every employee has a right to get a "Material Safety Data Sheet" describing every substance we work with.

We asked for such a sheet for the chemicals that came off the ink cartridges we inserted in the printers. Management was reluctant but after a couple of weeks we had the information sheet which noted, in very small type, the sheet noted that the ink included "Carbon Black" which has been linked to respiratory irritation and is a "possible carcinogen."

We pushed harder for an air quality check. My supervisor informed me that I would no longer be allowed to lead safety meetings, "People got too riled up, that's not what the meetings are for."

When I said I would go to OSHA if we did not get the air quality test, my supervisor moved me to another line on the other side of the building. I was "a troublemaker."

After a series of meetings with managers, verbal warnings, and a written reprimand, I got a phone call one evening after work from a Manpower representative. She told me my assignment at HP had unexpectedly ended, and that I had to hand in my badges.

She could not tell me why I was laid off, and informed me that I should not have any contact with anyone from the warehouse. "When you turn in your badge, please do so at our main office, not the warehouse."

Later that night I had a call from Eliza, a vocal co-worker, who had also been let go. She was devastated. She had worked at the plant as a temporary for more than three years, and was supporting her 10-year-old son with the $10.00 an hour job.

We went back to the Santa Clara Center. They offered free assistance to help us file a claim with the State Industrial Relations Board. We filed, but a week later Eliza pulled out because she feared a record of fighting with an employer would hurt her chances for finding work -- a risk she could not afford on account of her son.

I filled out the paperwork and spent weeks with my lawyer recalling events and exchanges with employees and employers.

Under the law, the Industrial Relations Board has 60 days to reply to a claim. The deadline passed with no word, so my lawyer set a meeting with the local board investigator.

I took a day off my new job and was told that my case was so complex the investigation was taking longer than expected. They were not sure whether to go after Manpower, Hewlett Packard, or both.

Months passed, seasons changed, and the board kept giving themselves new deadlines.

My lawyer moved to another organization, but I kept calling every 30 days. The answer was always the same: "We are in investigation and will make a decision shortly."

Finally, more than 20 months after the original filing, the California labor commissioner ruled that Manpower had violated my right to express health and safety concerns at work.

As a remedy, the commissioner called on Manpower to stop discriminating against employees exercising their health and safety rights, to post a notice at the warehouse of the ruling, purge their files of any reference to my unlawful separation from employment, and give me a week's back pay (around $240).

I was ecstatic -- as if I'd won the Lotto -- and I wanted the world to know. But this soon faded as I realized that the decision did not address the reason I got into this mess in the first place.

I filed my complaint, and stuck with it, to show that workers have the right to a safe workplace. I wanted employers to know that if they violated these rights, the law would come down on them like a sledgehammer. Posting a notice and paying $240 is more like a love tap.

Workers at the printer warehouse and others like it are still breathing in the same dangerous substances.

It's clear that laws designed to protect workers' health have meaning only if people fight for them. Public regulatory agencies alone cannot be trusted to enforce them in a timely fashion.