My Random Thoughts for Today


A retiree pounced upon a driver's post about passing up an intending passenger for flipping him off. He seemed to think it was our duty to give this person a ride. I disagree.

Given the public's, and our own management's, penchant for disrespecting us both literally and figuratively, we are not going to give certain people a ride. Take a foolish chance to catch a bus, and you're too stupid to ride. Not only are you risking an accident from motorists having to brake suddenly to avoid hitting you, but certainly in peril of becoming part of the pavement. If we do stoop to this irrational level of "service to the community," we're actually doing a disservice. Not only is flipping a bus driver disrespectful to the nth degree, it amplifies a pandemic of horrific treatment of those who provide an invaluable service to our fellow citizens. It also gives those on the bus reason to say, "Hey, it doesn't matter what we do, they're gonna give us a ride anyway."

Usually those who mistreat us are not working and contributing to the common good. They are also more apt to cause trouble once aboard. Why should they be treated the same as those who are at their stops on time, and pay their fare even though they're usually one check away from the street? Are they less important than likely freeloaders who defy their own safety to disrupt an operator's smooth and trouble-free roll? Fare payers are infinitely more valuable to this operator than the miscreants who make our lives miserable. Sorry, Honored Retiree, but we have to make judgment calls all day, and some are likely to be unpopular. Like one operator said, "Would you expect a cabbie to give you a ride if you flipped him off?" We do a very tough job, but we're human nonetheless. So far, we've been attacked in many ways, over 60 times so far in 2019. Don't expect a miracle for your misbehavior... ain't gonna happen.

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Had my on-time roll assaulted by the same guy at least three times today. He was drunk in early afternoon, expected other passengers to help tote his several bags on the bus, taking at least three minutes the first time to board. Each time he came aboard, the delay became progressively-longer. He was rude, and increasingly more drunk as the day progressed. On my final run, it is crucial for my passengers to reach a MAX station before the train leaves. This time, this obnoxious guy delayed us 15 minutes as he struggled with his overloaded cart. Granted, some folks have to tote their life's belongings with them to safeguard against theft. But they are usually respectful, timely and efficient. This guy tested the limits of my patience and was rude to me and the kind people who pitched in to help him. I had to leave the bus while he exited because I was so frustrated it was all I could do not to explode.

We all do "transit math" as we execute a run, predicting how long it will take given the excruciatingly-tight schedules we're expected to maintain. Factoring in a few slower boardings is expected. When one ill-prepared drunkard ruins your predictions, you are alone in shouldering the burden of those who are inconvenienced due to such a deviation. Some may think me hard-hearted, but too damn bad. I serve the masses, but reserve the right to be angry at those who fail to think of others. This guy was unable to think of anybody but himself. If I see him alone at a stop next time, I'm highly-tempted to roll right past. The only problem is that he will just cause my follower grief, and I hate to do that to my brothers and sisters.

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My days are full of compassion, kindness and patience. These values are part of my 11-point daily mantra which I recite before each day behind the wheel. When I'm tested, it can take a lot of strength to remember patience. I do this because I take immense pride in what I do, and constantly strive to do better than I did the day before. Every day. Sometimes, I fail at some point. All I can do is strive to improve.

"You're one of the best drivers on this line," a lady told me earlier in the day. "You actually care about us."

"Thanks," I replied, "but my fellow operators care about you too. We just show it differently."

When you assail my good side, you're apt to see my temper foul quicker than if a BMW cuts off the bus. The majority of my passengers know the rules, respect them and are polite in their interactions with others. I'm not very sympathetic with the selfish. I was married to It, once upon a long ago time.

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Our management is back to its typically-arrogant and operator-blind ways. As of April 1, our shoes must only be black. Forgive me, but I don't remember signing up for the military. If they truly gave one damn, management would realize comfort is the main concern. If our feet are confined to one type of shoe, we're not entirely safe. I wear a boot of two currently-acceptable colors: brown and black. It is capable of being shined, but I refuse to do so. My uniforms are clean, neat and worn with the respect afforded my position. There are many more points needed its poorly-guided notions, such as our collective safety. Give me the right to dictate management's uniform, and we'd see how quickly they realize how silly a notion that would be. Utter foolishness deserves the same in return. Shame on them for puffing up with unwarranted self-importance instead of supporting those who do the real work of transit. What's next, the color of our underwear?

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The subject of a future post will be directed toward a new metro-wide committee whose task it will be to "investigate" collisions with transit vehicles. Once again, it's an obvious ploy aimed toward blaming US for the public's lack of safety awareness. Sure, transit operators are human, therefore subject to failing to predict another's foolish actions in our paths, just a millisecond too late before the "victim" makes contact with our vehicles. What the worthless local media is ignorant about is how many lives we save every day. But hey, let's face it: only blood sells.

Let that thought fester in your minds whilst I ponder further.

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As I've progressed as an operator, each shift has become a lesson in extreme vigilance and patience. Before most of you read this, I'll be deep into Proud Boys vs. Antifa Part Ad Infinitum, protected only by my wits and sheer will to persevere against impossible odds. I hope when you read this, you are safe. My own safety is always in peril, as is that of every one of my brothers and sisters worldwide who provide safe rides to millions every hour of every day each year. Remember that when you berate us for the least popular decisions we have to make.


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