Please, #BANDTOGETHER2022

Bus operators hit many walls during our career. Figuratively, of course, rather than literally. (God I hate how people use "literally" without considering the word's actual meaning!) It seems I've hit my latest one, and it's probably the most difficult bump in my 10-year gig.

"I hate what kind of person this job is turning me into," a brother operator told me. Lately, I have turned into an asshole, someone I could not bear being around. It's eating me up, concurrently infuriating and depressing me. 

I was dealing with all the issues surrounding my confusing fury when our mental health provider told me I had used up my allotted benefits last year. It was befuddling that a company which encourages us to use our mental health benefits would set a limit on said sessions. It brought me to a full stop. No more speaking with a professional who had just begun to understand my psyche enough to explore avenues to guide me toward a better, happier ME. The positive path I had chosen ran into a hard dead end, and this increased my depression and amplified the PTSD. Instead of reaching out, I withdrew. It's a path many take, but its repercussions can be disastrous. My own path has been one even a 4WD could not traverse.

Being told I had surpassed my allowed benefits threw me into a slow tailspin. Dealing with a myriad of challenges as all my fellow transit workers have these past nearly three years, I had found a counselor who was helping me deal with the fear, anger and stress and forge new pathways in my mental health journey. Then, I suddenly was back to Square Zero. Forced to the old (and failed) method of dealing with inner struggles on my own.

My baby brother died, which set my cycle on hyper-spin. It became way too much all of a sudden, and I began an explosive and potentially career-ending battle with the asshats whose main objective is to throw a fuck-it-all into the already-stressed psyche of a "hero" with minimal support. Up to that point, I had a 50/50 success rate dealing with "problem passengers". Now, it's more like 20/80.

I do not like who I am, and do not want to continue being that guy. It's obvious I need to change. After my most recent "incident" with an emotionally-challenged passenger, there was little support awaiting my early arrival to the garage other than the supervisors who handled the incident on-site. They were great, very supportive yet a wee bit surprised at my explosive reaction. Given my emotional state afterward, the presiding supe pulled me out of service for the day. Yes, I could have, should have, handled the situation much better than I did. There's no excusing my lack of professionalism, except for one nagging and extremely vital point: like many operators, I have reached the end of my give-a-damn. 

It seems we're expected to be perfect at all times, while also dealing with the enormous task (often described as "un-skilled") of guiding a 20-ton Beast through waves of dipshidiots who shouldn't even have a license, given their horrific lack of driving skills. When we fuck up (or not), we're subjected to teams of Monday Morning Quarterbacks who pull up tapes of our bus, sometimes reaching beyond to find other nitpicky imperfections to pile upon our already-hyper scrutinized behavior. Everything WE do wrong has been the emphasis in the past, but now we're supposed to believe things are improving. The New Guys in Town promise a change, but refuse to cement the new processes like the cheeky sayings in the sidewalks along the MAX Orange Line platform approaches. There's very little, if anything, said when we "do the right thing" unless a passenger sends in a message of support. Otherwise, we totter on a teeter of extreme challenges way up high without a rope to grab when we fall.

When Sam Desue, Jr. was named the new GM last year, he had already been part of the disastrous "team" we suffered under for eight years. It was difficult to believe he would be any different than his predecessor. He has said the right things, but failed to dig deep and STAND for US. Sure, he's dangled carrots toward the working class, but he remains hesitant to become publicly furious and scream to Portland that ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. He has yet to extend his well-manicured claws and fight back on our behalf. On one hand he meekly states that attacks on frontline workers will not be "tolerated", but also has overseen a weak-minded policy that has de-criminalized fare evasion. Those who refuse to pay are often the trouble-causers who chase away the multitudes who could increase ridership numbers.

I met with Sam last year. After listening to him describe himself for 35 minutes, I gave him a brief intro myself before delving into the issues which divided us to that point. Before I could get halfway through my list, the meeting was over. Sam had places to be and others to see. He has promised a follow-up. Hopefully, our next discussion delves deeper into what needs to be done to make our agency a truly healthy family rather than the horrendously-dysfunctional one it has been this past 15 years.

* * * * *

Nobody has the balls to stand up and say "ENOUGH, YOU TROUBLE-CAUSING PAINS IN OUR COLLECTIVE ASS". We're just waiting for somebody, ANYbody, to do so. Our union is who should be screaming the loudest, but our local is instead lauding itself on "winning" a paltry 7.5% raise when we deserve 15% after the most painful two years we've ever experienced in our 100+ years of service to Portland. We have not had any meaningful union demonstrations since 2019, when we converged on Pioneer Square and demanded an end to the madness we had borne to that point. Then, as we all know, it all went to hell. Being "buddies" with management has not gained us anything in the past. For all intents and purposes, the status quo seems stuck upon "Us vs. Them", and that ain't getting the job done.

So now, a ragtag few of us who pledge no strong allegiance to any clique are about to (once again) engage in our own form of silent protest. No ATU support or even acknowledgement, nor any from management. A movement which few of you have joined, perhaps in fear of management retaliation (not bloody likely, folks). Freedom of Expression is still a protected right, even within a metropolitan agency within its own power. Still, #BANDTOGETHER2022 is in its fifth year, and we're hoping more of you join in.

During the week of September 18-24, I urge you to place a bandage on your door-side cheek. Whether you serve in Portland or anywhere else in the world, please join us. Just as Billy Alsheimer and his mates in Rhode Island have every year, along with brothers and sisters across the globe.

The first day of #BANDTOGETHER2022, please write the initials "TD" on the bandage. This is to honor Thomas Dunn, an operator who was murdered in the seat as he drove his bus. If you've never heard of him, please do a Google Search. His bravery and sacrifice is one every transit worker needs to honor and remember.

Each successive day, we ask that you write the number of "attacks" on transit workers in your local district on the bandage you wear. Whenever someone asks about it, tell them it's a tribute to those who are attacked while simply doing their job. It is simply a conversation-starter. Most passengers have no idea the dangers we face doing the work of moving people safely across any metropolitan area. Perhaps if enough people realize the scope of the problem, those entrusted with our safety will take more decisive steps to ensure everyone's safety on transit.

I will post on the FromTheDriverSide Facebook page with Portland's attack tally with the initial count on September 18, and update it if need be the entire week. Please share this peaceful protest so that it becomes a global event. May this Fifth year be the one that grabs the world's notice.

Meanwhile, I pray you all remain safe, and that my anger finds a better outlet so that I don't end up in a life-altering incident. Thomas Dunn simply acknowledged a passenger with a like sentiment. That got him killed. We all need to remember this, and I pray it never happens to any of us again.

RIP, Operator Dunn.