WE Can Never Be Replaced!

Deke's Note: I'm writing in honor of Bus Operators everywhere, but this time it's local to Portland even though our efforts are duplicated every moment on a worldwide basis. While my fellow brothers and sisters in other departments face different challenges, I could never argue that my own are any more difficult than theirs. We all share solidarity in a very tough profession. My respect for all with whom I work is paramount. Now we're in the midst of another contract negotiation that will likely test our solidarity, but I'm counting on our sticking together for the greater good. This post is meant to inspire deep thought about the future of those who roll the wheels, as well as those who keep the equipment in top-notch shape. Thanks to you all!

TriMet wants to do away with its operators, and has made it clear as they begin the latest contract negotiations. Somehow, these corporate clowns have it in their oxygen-starved brains that machines can do our jobs better. It shows the classic disrespect of Corporata for the working folks. This total disregard was eloquently attacked by the first progressive president, Theodore Roosevelt.

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood..." -- President Theodore Roosevelt, 1910. 

Bus operators are baptized by all three attributes. We are urban warriors: Operators, Maintenance, Station Agents and Road Supervisors are an irreplaceable team. We do battle daily with a myriad of foes: rude and impatient motorists and passengers, a media which labels us as overpaid and low-skilled, a management which pretends to support us while paying mere lip service to the respect we have earned over decades of dedication to an honorable trade. Bus operators move the cities which they serve. We're a vital cog in every local economy. Still, we're much more than that: we're human.

Our species has come a long way in our tiny slice of this planet's evolutionary pie. In just 100 years, we have revolutionized every aspect of human existence. It has been extraordinary the incredible advances we have made since the Industrial Revolution celebrated mankind's extraordinary ability to improve and adapt to every step. Now, we're poised on the precipice of making ourselves obsolete.

For all the advancements in technology, the end game is what frightens me: automation. We have, or nearly do, have the ability to replace ourselves with machines. And our management sits gleefully on the precipice of replacing its annoyingly-demanding human employees with artificial intelligence. What these short-sighted drooling fools propose is a horrific end-game: human obsolescence.

There is no replacement for the human soul. We Operators feel the pain and pitfalls of the human experience like no computer chip ever could. Over the years, I've spoken with hundreds of people across every socioeconomic level. We share our lives as few others, finding common ground as the human condition finds itself interwoven in so many chapters of an oft-shared existence. The stories I've heard often filled my eyes with tears so intensely that I had to pull over, just to listen to a soul in some pain I have also endured. People appreciate being heard; we are often overlooked. The human experience should never be reduced to information stored on a chip or server. It is something understood, felt and only known by fellow humans.

I happened upon a fellow operator tonight as I arrived early to a transit center. Usually, this means I'm treated to a few moments of breathing fresh air outside my occupational prison, stretching my seat-hardened muscles and enjoying the delight of standing upon two legs. It's not afforded me because I run "hot," but because the schedule of the route has several bubbles which help operators catch up to the ever-ticking and often unforgiving clock.

My friend was done with his route, as his destination sign told me so. He stood outside, speaking with a frail-looking lady. As I approached, the levity of her situation became obvious. Joe Operator reassured her things would get better. He had evidently slipped her some cash, and pleaded with her to step inside a nearby Starbucks to buy a hot cup of relief and perhaps something to eat. He also promised that he would have information on a shelter next time she rode his bus. Joe reminded her to call him if she needed anything. His eyes shone with kindness and the innate goodness shining from his generous soul. Joe's a tough guy, been around the block, so to speak. I knew to remain quiet and respectful during their interaction. It was all I could do not to tear up myself, and I failed.

As she wheeled off, I greeted my friend. His eyes were fully-rimmed with tears. Her condition clearly affected him, and he turned away. "Give me a second, will ya?"

Feeling the intruder, I could only comply. I was proud of Joe for being who he has always been: generous of soul. His actions and those of so many in our ranks, again made me intensely-proud of my profession. Here was a bus operator taking a personal stake in the pain of a passenger. It clearly affected him, and I gave Joe his moment. Time clock be damned, I wanted to show him the respect he deserved.

After a few seconds, Joe turned back to me, his eyes full of tears.

"Hey Joe," I said softly, "I just wanted to say hello, but instead, you showed me something special. Thank you."

He was without words. I simply gave him a "man hug" and asked him to take a few moments before he drove again to compose himself.

"I'm okay," Joe replied. "I'll tell you about it next time we see each other."

That was all he needed to say. I had just witnessed yet another of many untold stories of a compassionate bus operator. We connect with a few of those we serve, and of those, some truly need a friend where nobody else has shoes that fit.

Management has run ads pleading for more operators, describing us as personal counselors, city ambassadors and other flattering descriptors. Even so, they conspire to replace us with machines. This is without any respect to the working class. Therefore, I beg my fellow ops to change their overhead destination signs to read: GARAGE. Fuck this blatant attempt at bullshitting unsuspecting job-seekers with promises of golden glory when simple trickery awaits them.

Lost a loved one? Chances are, your local bus operators are all actively searching for them. Just today we were asked to watch out for a "non-verbal" person at risk, and one of our operators found them. Cops searching for a violent offender? Dispatch has already alerted us to be on the lookout, and we are. Is that your toddler running down the street in freezing rain? The bus operator on that route has already stopped the bus and brought the little one on board, wrapping her in their coat and alerting Dispatch to have police meet them. Your father, who suffers from dementia walked off from his care facility? On many occasions, a bus operator had him on his bus and walked him to his door to make sure he didn't wander all night in the rain.

Could automation replace innately-human tasks of compassion? Never. Would you want a robot to do this job? I hope not. If you do, please walk wherever you go. Or ride a bike, and let bikeportland.org worry about your safety, because only a bus operator truly cares that you make it home despite your foolish disregard for personal responsibility.

Our retired and highly-decorated brother Willie Jack was featured on local news when he secured his bus to rush out and help a blind lady cross a busy street. My brother Justin saw a home on fire as he drove to work one early morning, and stopped to bang on doors and windows to wake the family within, saving them from the raging inferno. There are many more examples of our being "shepherds of the public safety, sacrificing daily for the common good," as my good friend and brother the Rampant Lion roars in honor of our fellow Operators.

Blather on about "the natural progression" of transit, foolish applauders of management. It's YOU who should be replaced due to your lack of compassion, responsibility and humanity. WE could do your job just fine, and cut your numbers by almost two-thirds while doing a much more efficient job. We would save money, be more proactive and responsive while restoring our former prestigious place as the nation's premier transit agency. Why? Because we care about what we do. No bullshit, no excuses, only tangibly-positive results. Not only would the people who DO the work of transit be better cared for, but the community-at-large would be much better served.

So carry on as you will, but you're obsolete, not US. We're tired of that fake smile which masks constant incompetence and disrespect. We're coming for YOUR jobs; ours are secure because those we serve realize we have their safety and personal well-being at heart as we drive them to their destination. All you seem to care about are HAL 2000's spreadsheets and inhuman goals. Go away, and let US do the job of transit... the public would be much better served.

With all I've said, I remain a loyal and supportive member of ATU 757. Give 'em hell, President Block!