Deke's Note: R-E-S-P-E-C-T. It's expensive, but we have earned it. Inch by rubber-meets-the-road inch, mile by insulting milepost. But our "leadership" has weakly voiced it while knocking us down behind the scenes where the public cannot see. Here is how.
Head of "Human Relations", a vague term which is corporate-speak for "keep 'em down", has told our union president that "scared employees are the best kind". He backs this up by putting forth a contract that takes away decades of hard-fought victories while indicting and convicting US of silly and usually-false charges by a public that is codified, pampered and believed over his own workforce. He is also quoted as saying "public employees don't deserve" retirement security. Even those who devote their entire lives to serving in a body-killing job.
Transit workers everywhere are victim to a corporate takeover of transit. Rarely do you find someone in upper management who has actually operated a city bus in service. They just don't get it. This job is dependent upon our being shepherds of the public's safety, which we do admirably. Those above us have not earned their positions through the blood and sweat we shed each day in poorly-designed seats with little time between runs to stretch, eat or pee.
Now we're supposed to roll with windows closed. Management insists we are safe because the HVAC filters are changed every 6,000 miles. I did some math today regarding this figure. Given each bus rolls approximately 250 miles a day (conservatively), that's once every THREE months. That leaves a LOT of potential for this deadly virus to pass through dirty filters.
I refuse to leave my windows shut, and loudly protest a passenger walking onto my ride who begins shutting windows. Yeah, it's cold and wet outside. It's a lot warmer and drier inside my bus even with half the windows OPEN. Get used to it, Portland. It's about to get even wetter and colder, but MY office windows will remain open to keep the air flowing in and OUT. Even if the filters were changed each week, I'd still choose airflow over stagnation any day. Given management's lackluster efforts regarding clean air on transit (especially on light rail vehicles, in which open windows are not an option), I'll take my chances and wear a freakin' sweater. Buck up, buttercups... I refuse to budge on this issue.
Our riding public only sees (if they even look at us upon entering our rolling office) a body in the seat. Many appreciate us and at least say hello, but even more refuse to raise their eyes in the slightest of greetings. When someone acts up on our ride, they behave as if they're the boss and we have "no right" to correct their errant behaviors. A quick call to "Customer Service", which these days ought to be renamed "The Whine Line" gives them immediate power to make our lives miserable. Complaints should be screened for truth, the caller's identification recorded, before ANY of them make the trip down the line to our inbox. Instead, this system is so poorly-managed that many operators receive complaints for work they were not operating within. Even easily-disproven lies make their way into our personnel files and are never erased.
Put a news camera in front of our management's "leadership team" when the weather is bad, and they'll sing our praises. Meanwhile, they're busily thrusting a knife deep into our souls with ridiculous, morale-assassinating discipline. Still, we show up for work. It could snow a foot overnight, but your transit operator makes it in even if they have to cut their rest hours short to ensure they arrive on time. One second late results in an "oversleep", one of transit's most egregious faults, a most-embarrassing transgression we're rarely guilty of. We're proud of our record of showing up no matter what disaster descends upon the city we serve, while the glorified few sit cozily by their warm hearths, "working from home today due to (whatever conditions WE brave)".
During the heights of this pandemic, our "leadership" has hidden from view, afraid to venture into the hellish storm of viral nightmares we endure each minute in uniform. A uniform, I must mention, that far surpasses ridiculousness in its elemental inadequacy. We toil in clothing that is dark in color, dour in appearance, and utterly less-than-respectful of our position in Working America. The latest form of disrespect is an edict which insists our SHOES be black ONLY, able to be SHINED. Only the military, police and fire have more strict uniform policy than transit's frontline workers. You would think our comfort would reign paramount in a profession that saps the strength out of the heartiest souls, but "leadership" would rather have control than ensure our comfort. It's ridiculousness at the utmost, which is about the ONLY thing management does well. Oh yeah, other than not offering us financial recompense for our heroic efforts they trumpet.
Once again, I say PUT TRANSIT OPERATORS FIRST! Hire someone for General Manager who has parked a bus in the yard after a 10-12 hour shift, slumping under the weight of all one must carry back to the garage. Tired, often dejected after being insulted, threatened, attacked and/or assaulted with no "leadership" backing us up afterward. All we can look forward to is the smile on our similarly-beleaguered Station Agent's face, and their genuine thanks for another job well done. Shit trickles only downhill, and I wonder how much of it my fellow SA's take from their higher-ups. Thankfully, they do their best to see it doesn't roll off of them onto our already-stained uniformed bodies at the end of the line.
We have allowed this to happen. We don't storm the "Bored" of Directors meetings demanding they wake up from their power-induced snooze. Over half our membership can't even be bothered to vote in union elections, let alone come together to send a selfie to union stewards asking for participation in an International-led drive to shame "leadership" back to the negotiation table to eke out a fair contract.
I have made nearly 50 calls to local members pleading with them to join me and others in signing a petition to call "leadership" (I use that term in quotes because of the irony in this term) to its failure to bargain in "good faith", given all the hardships we have endured in serving so proudly the transit agency it is supposed to shepherd in equitable fashion. Many with whom I have a relationship have responded immediately; others have yet to call back. If we fail to fight the monster, it wins. I'm not one who gives up easily, and will likely call another 10-20 this weekend. I refuse to lay down to the monster that has enveloped our professional reality, and I cannot accept apathy from anyone. We have too much to lose, and management acts as if it has already won.
ATU International has stepped in to force TriMess back to the negotiation table rather than have our stalled contract talks settled by a state-appointed arbitrator. TriMeth has stubbornly refused to budge from its ridiculously-insulting stance, much like a meth user who refuses to abide by transit code on a vehicle. It's pathetic how they treat us, and get away with it. In my less-than-humble opinion, the whole lot should be shit-canned so hard they land with a resonating THUMP in the city sewer. Replace them with a team of dedicated professionals who have spent tens of thousands of hours in the seat, who KNOW what it takes to make the wheels roll.
Given the opportunity to serve Portland as transit's General Manager, I would turn the whole thing on its head and shake vigorously for about a month. The crap at the top would fall, and those not-deserving-to-be-bottom-feeders would rise to take their place. We would revitalize the entire system. The passengers would feel more welcome, with troublemakers forever excluded rather than patronized and pampered. Operator facilities would blossom and morale would soar. Capital projects would be shelved until the system was revamped, remodeled and revitalized with the spirit Portland transit once boasted as the finest in the world. No longer would frontline workers feel disrespected; their every need would be amplified and their service glorified, rather than today's atmosphere of utter disrespect and disciplinary exhaustion.My shoulder aches tonight after a grueling 650 miles in the seat this week. I keep trying to re-adjust my driving style to save whatever part of my body aches the most. In the past month, I have been threatened, abused, ignored and insulted. Still, I wish my riders well into the rainy Portland evening after rolling into another patented smooth Deke stop. I smile at them, compliment their Portlandesque individuality, and genuinely wish them well no matter their countenance. It's not my job... it's just who I am.
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On a positive note, it was grand to roll into Downtown Portland last weekend to find a crowd of people dancing joyfully upon Pioneer Courthouse Square. I don't know or care how you voted, but thousands of folks happily demonstrating beats the hell out of the past six months of angry protests. We need to find a way back together again. I'm tired of the divisions, the acrimonious FaceBook arguments. It's time to find common ground once more. I have friends on both sides of this central point I occupy. Each of you matter to me, especially when we agree to disagree. Life is better with friends who can debate and still laugh together.
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Still, the most stubborn say it's their "right" not to protect themselves, or others, from falling victim to the biggest threat since the Spanish Flu of 1918. Have we learned NOTHING from history? Viruses are not political, they are simply biological. Like your heartbeat, breathing, your very being on this plane. Will you fly away from those who love you because you're too stubborn to take precautions? Will you kill your beloved family members in refusal of a worldwide threat? I hope not.
I drive a bus. Thousands of people, some who might have this virus within them, walk and breathe in my space every year. I wear a mask not just to protect myself, but you as well. If I have it, my soul could not bear passing it to you, no matter your political persuasion. I have love enough to share with millions. If I die of COVID, it matters not. If you did because of me, my soul could never rest in peace.
Be safe, be well, be vigilant. I promise the same.
It seems like transit is the same everywhere.Very well said and well written!
ReplyDeleteSadly, it seems like things are the same everywhere. Nobody at the top who has done the job on the front lines.
ReplyDeleteOn my job, we have local level management at a few terminals who have pounded ballast and sat in the engineers' seat before rising to become trainmasters, and once there, totally forgot where they came from after getting a sip of the Kool-Aid. Now there is the ultimate insult.