Random Rants of a Current Bus Driver

Deke's Note: This was meant to be a series of notes for my next blog post. It's hard for me to simply make notes; once the fingers get warmed up I can't stop. While negative in scope, after four outta five days of torture on a different route this signup it reflects my thoughts for the week. I wanted to find something more positive to say, or relate a "feel good" story from my rolls. However, it's been a constant week of disappointment and passenger disrespect. Other than my attempts to make a connection with a five-year-old boy, it has been the worst first week of a signup... ever. I promised from the start to describe what it's like "from the driver side" and this delivers. It may not be what you want to hear, but hey... it's my therapy.

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Why I Don't Participate in Company Functions

What led to my current dismay: rosy outlook at first, dimmed early by "this is the best job I've ever had, but the worst company I've ever worked for." How prophetic.

Never liked "mass feeds" or "feel good" bullshit parties. If the company truly "cared" about its operators, it would show this via better relations, fewer takeaways at contract negotiations, re-designing SIP, educating the public, not sending out snippy letters about "leaving the garage 3:27 late," creating a legal department to advocate for operators who have been threatened/assaulted, promoting a former bus operator to the GM position, recognizing this blogger's blog/book without his fear of retaliation while engaging said operator in meaningful feedback, celebrating more "feel good" stories about operators/supes in local media, and following up when an operator is publicly accused and later cleared of any wrongdoing.

I passed through the "company holiday party" with disgust. Only in the garage for a few minutes, I hated being there at all. In my five minutes, the corporate pretty lady passing out "goody bags" full of bullshit "patting themselves on the back for OUR hard work" propaganda, didn't even see me. Hauling my 35-pound backpack full of on-the-road necessities, I trudged through the throngs of holiday revelers with a sour face, intent only upon escaping into the wild where I truly belong: the roads of transit.

The most successful companies truly celebrate their customer-level employees, rather than giving them lip service (aka Costco). The level of disconnect between management and operations is staggering, fueling the horrific low self esteem and morale Portland transit has ever seen.

The nasty letter I received when our contract was expiring that basically said "since the contract is expiring, we can and WILL pass on ALL added premium costs for your insurance to YOU. Nah nah nah nah nah. Because we can." So much for the LAST pay increase, two years ago. Is this what we can expect with the tiny beans you throw our way this time? I'll be sure to vote NOT on whatever carrot you dangle this time; it means nothing two years from now. As a single-earner household, I cannot afford to even buy a home in this market with what you pay me. Even though I'm sacrificing my body to transit, it doesn't value me enough to make it worthwhile.

Life Rolls On...

At my age, finding another job is out of the question. Although I possess decades of real-world experience, technical know-how and savvy, I'm less than 10 years from retirement. That makes me persona-non-grata in the job market. I'm stuck, and you KNOW it. Therefore, I'm screwed. Doesn't mean I will kiss your ass though. I do my job quite thoroughly, knowledgeably and competently, thank you very much. Other than that, the less I can interact with management the better. It's much too incompetent to rank my attention, let alone my respect. Only a few mid-management folks are worthy of my respect. Any higher than that, and I'll pass, thank you.

So yeah. If I ever make Lead or Senior Operator or whatever, don't throw me some fake appreciation party. Just interoffice mail it to me. My satisfaction comes from those Safety Awards, not an elementary school attendance award. Hey, I'm proud of our newest Gold Master Operator Cynthia Kassab, she deserves special recognition for the superb operator she has always been, but still... how many times did she drive sick when she really should have been home in bed rather than sharing her illness with passengers, fellow operators, etc.? How many times has she felt threatened, been abused or under-appreciated for her efforts? Why should we sacrifice our health for some bullshit award? When you're dead, nobody will remember those meaningless pieces of paper. In fact, few will be lucky to be remembered at all. (I still remember YOU, Trainer Stewart and others who have fallen.) When I'm sick, in pain or otherwise not feeling I can give my passengers 150%, I'll stay home and bypass the fake award program. It's not worth it to do otherwise... for ANY of us.

SAFETY has been replaced by SCHEDULE. With this scenario, as I said years ago, the term "customer service" is rendered obsolete. As CS wanes due to management's mis-management of what we're trained to do, it's WE who suffer the slings of the pampered clientele.

A brother approached me this week about doing some work for a "committee" he's on. Seems he's been bullshitted into making a presentation for them, asked if I'd help. I honestly would rather not. I hate committees. It's another way for corporate bullshit artists to con us into believing they actually care. Not buying it for a minute. However, I was interested in the report he told me about that describes how the stresses of our jobs become "background noise" as the years progress. We don't actually realize how the "beep beeps" and passenger insults and management interference and diesel fumes and other motorists' antics contribute to transit operations being one of the top stress-inducing professions in the world. While I trust my brother's passion to try and do something positive for us, I healthily distrust management's motives for yet another lame attempt to show they care what we go through. Given its callous lack of compassion, I cannot lend myself to such folly.

Am I jaded? Contrast my current attitude with that which I had coming into the job. Great benefits, #1 transit to broken promises, constant cutbacks while "prettying up the system" and ignoring operator issues such as proper facilities and horrible traffic conditions vs. tight schedules, retirees being thrown under the bus, newbies being pressured (and allowed) to go full time LONG before they're ready, the JANUS decision encouraging workers to stop paying union dues while their brothers and sisters foot the bill for contract negotiations/arbitrations etc. It's obviously a long-planned ploy once again to "divide and conquer" the middle class while it argues amongst itself which side contributed most to its suffering.

Yeah, I'm down and out. How many of you bought my book? I went into debt to produce a tome that outlines most of our issues that are rarely broadcast, but perhaps 1/6 of my local brothers and sisters bothered to buy a copy. It makes me feel... ridiculous. Still, enough read to make my words at the very least, worthwhile. Somebody has to say something, it might as well be me. Many of you read but don't always agree with my arguments, and that's fine. At least you read and respond. I'm not always right, and you're not always wrong. Still, I try to reflect just one concept: how I feel rolling six wheels.

To those of management who read and don't respond, you're missing a great opportunity to open a dialogue with those you oversee. Our well-being should be your TOP PRIORITY, not statistics. Meaningless numbers pale in comparison to what we do out there. We deal with the reality you only read about in your countless memos and reports. It's easier to deal with our pain from some exalted comfy chair in an ivory tower. Board meetings, committee meetings, plastic outpouring of fake support for a diamond-studded workforce... that's YOUR reality. Mine is the countless interactions with the drug-addled homeless, the poor working class (who I try to help at EVERY opportunity), and the self-entitled snobs who ride our system in lieu of driving their own vehicles. Some are genuinely-kind, while many take the opportunity to send uninformed and nasty complaints with little merit or understanding of the BIG PICTURE we have learned via thousands of miles on the road in horribly-unforgiving seats. Over two-thirds of these complaints should be thrown out before they even reach our managers, but instead we're insulted by them every day. It's discouraging at best, mind-numbingly depressing and discouraging as usual. Rare is the commendation, because it's oh-so-easy to complain rather than lift us up with kindness.

Tonight, my back is screaming in agony. I didn't injure it at home, as your Workers' Compensation phonies would argue. The years of twisting and turning to see things other motorists don't even try to see are taking their toll. My body is breaking down due to the unspoken rigors of the job. If it fails, you'll just find another body to take my place and move on. Deke will no longer matter, not that I do now. Just like hundreds, thousands before me, I'm only useful while there's a steering wheel in my hands. When the pain is so unbearable I fail to turn quickly enough to make that once-in-a-lifetime scan that avoids an accident, you'll discard me without even so much as a "Thanks for all those lives you saved over the years."

Yeah, I'll be at work again the next service day. It's my Friday, and I have many miles to go before I sleep. Whoever's woods these be, I hope you'll know... I'll still be there when they fill with snow. For a while longer, anyway.