It's not that we don't appreciate being appreciated. We just doubt your sincerity. Most of our passengers thank us as they exit our bus. Some go so far as to stop by and personally acknowledge my efforts to give them a safe and smooth ride. This happens especially when I've had to deal with unruly people who think we have no "right" to tell them what to do. When gracious, kind and good folks take a few moments to give me thanks and reassurance that I'm "doing the right thing," it feels real. They actually mean it, because I've provided them with a valuable service. These moments rekindle my desire to go over and above what's expected.
In times of harsh winter weather, good people take care to explicitly appreciate my driving. Many people leave their own vehicles at home and ride transit. They know we'll be there, every day no matter the conditions. Even if we have to sleep at the garage during harsh winter weather, they are confident that even though we're late due to chains limiting us to 25mph, 9.75 times out of 10, we will deliver them safely to work or whatever commitment they need to fulfill. We are highly-prepared, intensely-focused individuals who take great pride in guiding tons of rolling mass safely down the roads or rails.
It takes a special breed of people to undergo the rigors of transit operation. We are subject to psychological tests, panel interviews, background investigations, fingerprinting, drug screens and an intense training regimen. When you apply for this job, it's a series of hurdles to clear before we even set foot on a bus the first day, throughout training, probation and the countless difficulties and challenges thrust upon us during a (hopefully) long career. Even though we prove our mettle from the first day, we are daily challenged to be far and above the most conscientious and safety-conscious public servants you'll ever meet.
Still, we are constantly under attack from the very management entrusted with our well-being and safety, as well as from the public we serve and a media which pounces on every perceived mistake. We're ignored when we do everything right, but lambasted, often cruelly and without justification when something goes awry. Intensely-scrutinized and found guilty without sufficient means of publicly exonerating ourselves, we are demoralized without backup from this management team that spends a gob of money each year to profess its "appreciation" of those who make their own jobs possible.
Because we're vital to the local economy where we operate, Oregon law forbids us to strike. This is an insult to our well-being and upward mobility. Considering the harsh toll this job takes on our bodies and souls, we're hamstrung without the basic right to force management to seriously bargain with our union leadership. This "no strike" phenomenon gives their position an enormous advantage; it throws us a cruel punch with no recourse for self-defense. I don't use that analogy lightly... we're literally not allowed to defend ourselves from violence when the law of the land specifically provides each citizen the right to do so. We are citizens as well. Yet all in all, we're at a serious disadvantage: in contract negotiations, disputes with management, from attacks on our person while on the job. Many an operator has been unfairly disciplined, sometimes terminated, when the "fight or flight" biological response results in our physically engaging an attacker. It seems we're supposed to allow ourselves to be pummeled without defending ourselves, considered still to blame for the incident happening in the first place.Even though we're at such overwhelming disadvantage, it's a wonder so many of my wonderful, skilled brothers and sisters dedicate ourselves each day to the smooth and efficient operations of transit. We take care to ensure our appearance is professional, our minds are focused on the enormous task ahead, and save thousands of careless lives each day through our dedication and vigilance. No matter the enormity of insults thrown at us, the unimaginable obstacles we skillfully guide our beasts through, each of us can nod in agreement at the end of the day: "been there, done that... good job sister/brother, I feel you." There's no management to greet us after the end of a late shift except our union Station Agents, offering the same words we have for each other. The "others" are snug in their beds, not a worry in their pampered heads, by the time I turn in my pouch at the end of shift.
The problem many of us have with this dog-and-pony show "Transit Appreciation Day" charade is that most of those who manage us cannot say they have the practical experience we do. Even rookies still in probation have a much greater awareness of transit operations than many in management do. With the exception of some Assistant Managers who actually came up through the ranks as operators, most of those entrusted with the efficient management of transit have no idea what consequences their actions have on our collective psyche. They rely on spreadsheets, "trends," or a misguided public perception of how it "ought to be." We're on the front lines of today's urban street battles. They sit comfortably in posh offices participating in meetings in which they are mostly impressed with their own voices.
We are largely unheard or ignored when policies of enormous impact are decided. Management makes a good show of pretending to listen. They "study" issues to death, then fail the exam. It makes for a demoralizing atmosphere in which we feel helpless and defiant toward them. To the riding public, we remain professional in our goal to provide passengers what management cannot simultaneously give us: respect and efficiency.
I cannot blame the underlings of non-union employees who show up this week to make a show for management in its staged-for-the-media event. They're paid to make the effort to give us baubles and bananas for one day each year in supposed "appreciation" for what we do. Problem is, these good people don't have a clue of what our job entails. When Board members take the time to get "out there" once a year to shake a few hands and make it seem they're showing us respect, it's mildly amusing. It would be more effective if they listened to us when we objected to their choice of the General Manager when St. Neil retired. We objected to their inevitably-annointed Vancouver reject, but it was to no avail. No "appreciation" there, folks. More of the same, no real-world experience, just another corporate wonk to fill the $200,00k+ job with golden egg benefits when he decides to retire. Me? I'll likely retire into a casket, with a fresh body ready and willing to take my place behind the wheel if a robot hasn't already taken the position.
There are no accolades for this writer who drives a bus for a living except the fact that YOU have written what I have written. YOU understand what I'm saying. Management has no clue. YOU appreciate what I do every shift, because YOU have done the same thing, felt what I have, been assaulted and vilified just to make a bi-monthly paycheck that doesn't even afford the cost of a mortgage these days. Thank YOU. I may never ben enriched for these words I put forth; the fact that you read them is reward enough.
As I've said before, management is cowardly. They take more than they deserve, and leave us the short straw. We're to blame for deficits, even though we pay the same transit tax they levied upon Portlanders a few years ago. They're full of excuses while we do the work they take credit for. I was insulted when President Clinton said "I feel your pain," because even a Dem who told us he was on our side was still bought and paid for by corporate America. He was born to politics like our bosses are born to corporate positions they don't deserve. Drive a bus a few years, THEN you might be qualified to manage US. If not, just go away. We could manage ourselves quite nicely, thank you.
I dare the GM to come onto my bus, tell me he knows I'm Deke. N. Freakin' Blue, and engage me in a meaningful and honest dialogue about transit. Otherwise, just stow your "Appreciation Day" where the sun don't shine, baby. Put me into his job and this agency would once again rise to the top. Why? Because I would do the job he should be doing: treating the front line workers with the respect our daily toils deserve.
Meanwhile, stay quiet, Management. You know who the hell I am, but you wait in the shadows for me to fuck up. You know my book sales are less than stellar. I've had limited success in the media. It has proven itself too cowardly to promote a viewpoint rarely acknowledged: that of those of us who do the true work of transit. Very few people read any more, if it's not a five-minute list of easy-to-understand talking points previously approved by our masters. Had my book become a best-seller, it would have required a vastly-different response. As it stands now, your control of the local media affords you the comfort of sitting back and ignoring my efforts. Yet, you know who Deke is. You're just too cagey to say so. Fire me, my book sales go through the roof and you're exposed for the inefficient frauds you truly are, from the Board on down to middle management. I get it. Great strategy. However, I will not shut up and go away. Nobody else speaks up for US; it's up to me to set the record straight.
Yeah, Appreciation. I don't buy the schtick. Most of us don't. It's like I said... a dog-and-pony production, a show for the media and the public. Another yearly expense item on the corporate balance sheet. A few bananas and candy, a media spot on the nightly news. Want to truly appreciate us? Do it every day of the year. Truly feel our pain. Don't fire us for refusing to be beaten bloody. Then, and only then, will I show any enthusiasm for this charade. Shame on you.
Love,
Deke
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