Old timers described this as something happening naturally between late-night operators who arrived early to offer regulars the chance to catch their bus. Back then, these passengers were known and honored simply because they communicated. Now, people board my bus each night at this point without even acknowledging my existence, let alone appreciating the fact I sit there waiting for them. As Week 2 ends, I'm beginning to recognize them. I'll even wait until the next bus to service the same stop arrives, but it rarely gets there on time. I can't wait too long, or it puts me late. By that point, I just want to go home.
Being the last bus on any line creates challenges. Often, my passengers are a mix of addicts who are too stoned or down and out to pay versus service workers who diligently pay their fare. It's a 50-50 in my mirror vs. the road, making sure Stanley Stoner doesn't fall over as I make a 5-7mph turn, or brake heavily when someone pulls the cord a bit late or a car cuts me off. When I arrive early at a time point and see some poor soul sleeping I will gently wake them and ask their destination so they don't miss their stop. Some may describe this as being "awesome public service" while I'm simply making sure disaster doesn't strike someone whose bad luck doesn't deserve another hit. Just me being a fairly decent human; no "hero" bullshit need apply.
A beloved family member is suffering from the effects of alcoholism. I see the debilitating results of this disease daily, and it cuts me deep. Yesterday awaiting my bus to arrive to our relief point downtown, an immigrant from some African country approached me. Usually, I'm on high alert during such interactions. A friendly security guard who covers that location has described several violent incidents between assailants and fellow Operators, and warned me to remain vigilant.
This lad was so sweet and kind to me. His accent was full of warmth and familial comfort. He lauded praise upon my service, and that of my fellow Operators, while wishing me the best of holiday seasons. African Buddy (AB) had a great few moments together, and I told him how much his affirmations meant to me. My bus arrived, and we parted with mutual words of kindness. As I gained the seat for my Friday roll, my smile warmed me in hopes for a peaceful shift.
* * * * *
Fast forward here... I spotted him approaching the next stop at 6th/Burnside. Having boarded a few passengers and waiting for the light to go green, I saw my new "buddy" signalling to board. He flashed his pass, then looked at me as if I were an enemy. His eyes no longer held friendship. Prior to his boarding, a team of transit Customer Servicey employees on their final roll of a shift also boarded, attention focused on their cell phones. Buddy boarded and looked at me with a fierce stare full of anger and hatred. He moved past me and settled in the first door-side side seat. He immediately stated loudly "Happy Holidays and fuck you ALL! It's my birthday and y'all can kiss my ass!"
I jumped in my seat. My heart actually skipped a beat, his sudden behavioral shift the cause. He didn't recognize me for the Operator he had lauded and heaped praise upon just a few minutes earlier. My PTSD went on high-alert. My fellow employees seemed to ignore his outbursts. Suddenly, I felt threatened, isolated, and protective of the poor man he now assailed with curses. Luckily, the target of this now-asshole's sudden diatribe ignored him. Thus thwarted, Amplified Butthole struck out at the entire passenger load with a soliloquy aimed at anyone who rode. Still, "Customer Service" remained quiet. Maybe they had already dealt with their limit of transit assholes and didn't feel up to the task. Meanwhile, I silently steamed. Having recently dealt with an intense family episode involving alcoholic inebriation turned hostile, I dreaded this outcome. Still, I was determined not to stoop so low as to meet AB's level.
Our GM has actually tried to alleviate issues with problematic idiots on transit by implementing a division of "Customer Servicey" teams whose job is to defuse and de-escalate problems like this guy was causing on my bus. All three of those on my bus at this time however, remained silent. None of them stepped up to intercede with a problem passenger, hell bent on causing trouble. Inwardly seething at their incompetence, I remained silent as "AB" grew bolder and spread his sudden hatred even further. My thoughts burned, as those whose job is to handle JUST THESE INCIDENTS simply remained quiet as he grew bolder in his disgusting diatribe.
The next stop was his. Luckily he called it before I did. As an Operator, I learned long ago to deal with this type of bullshit IMMEDIATELY. I had not said a word yet, but as AB stood at our approach to Everett/5th, I was ready. A 77 in front of my bus, I could not safely allow passengers to exit until I could claim the first position. AB decided he was ready to exit before I could safely allow it.
"Let me out HERE!" he shouted at me. I ignored him, watching the light turn green, waiting for the 77 to roll so I could slip into position at the stop.
"Almost there," I said softly. "I'll be happy to open the door..."
"LET ME OUT HERE MOTHERFUCKER!" AB screamed as I began to roll to the stop.
Nothing from Customer Servicey (useless) team members.
Ignoring AB, I just rolled to the stop pole, as I was trained to do.
"LET ME OUT ASSHOLE! HONKY PUNK ASS WHITEBOY BITCH!"
"As soon as it is safe," I calmly replied.
Comply out of fear, an Operator is liable if said dumbfuck stumbles if the bus is not stopped at the curb at the precise point of a bus stop, vehicle lowered as we're trained to do. Fuck anyone who challenges my dutifully performing the tasks I was trained to do and have diligently adhered to since my first run. AB could simply kiss each hair on my recently-fart-fouled butt.As I opened the front door, I refused to look at his drunk ass. I'm tired of idiots ordering me to do as they say. I do as I was trained. That's my job, and I'm damned good at it. (Inwardly, "FUCK OFF ASSHOLE!") I am not their punk ass bitch. I will not bow down to any self-entitled bullshit.
AB exited amidst a litany of drunken insults, but I smiled at him. "Happy Birthday! Have a fun day!" I told him, then abruptly shut the door in his face and drove off.
It felt good to dismiss such horrific behavior. After he had lauded me then berated me and each of my valued passengers, this was my non-verbalized "FUCK OFF!". I was proud to not rise to his level of ridiculousness. After having a tense standoff with a beloved drunk a few days earlier, it was therapeutic to remain calm while inwardly seething.
 |
| You forgot your joint, dude. |
* * * * *
Bus Operators worldwide are constantly subject to abuse. Nobody realizes that when we gain the seat of our bus we're praying for peace and focus, no matter what personal matters precede this moment. Our main goal becomes the safe operation of a 20-ton Beast through oft-unforgiving city streets and the motorists with whom we roll. It's a monumental task. We're constantly dealing with impatience, whether it be other motorists or passengers annoyed we're late for reasons beyond our control.
If a passenger boards a bus and the Operator is impersonal or less-than-polite, there's usually a plethora of reasons for our surly behavior. It's best for y'all to just smile, offer a friendly hello rather than flash a pass without any acknowledgement that we're actually fucking there. Usually, it took a lot of patience and professionalism simply to arrive at your stop.
You have no clue why we might be late. Maybe we aren't; quite possibly our leader broke down and we're precisely on time no matter how long you've been waiting. It's not our fault! Conversely, people believe we're off schedule simply to make their lives even more miserable than they already are.
Many dumbasses sit in an unlighted shelter blithely bent over their phones, dressed in dark colors, not looking for the bus they're waiting for. If we pass them by and suddenly brake and end up 50 yards past their stop and wait, they will likely plod slowly toward the bus, still staring hypnotically at their screen, then berate you for passing them up as they stand outside and struggle to get their fare app up to snuff. All the while, they have burned a minute off your time clock. So yeah, forgive us for not happily welcoming you to a bus full of people who were at their stop early, flashing a light or waving their hand so we could actually see they were intending to ride. Your inattention is causing them inconvenience as you delay my bus even further because you're not prepared to ride.
* * * * *
So AB, thanks for your initial kudos. Fuck off with your drunken insults to whomever. They didn't deserve your mental instability or drunken bullshit. Kiss my ass, Customer Servicey "team members" who allowed a drunken asshole to insult me and my passengers; you failed this time; remember you're on the clock until you aren't; your phones don't dismiss you from duty.
It's my Friday. Every one of you imbeciles (except Dispatch and Road Supes, my heroes) can kiss my ass. I'm done for at least two days. My home life, my family, my Beloveds, await me.
 |
| Cherish your children; they grow away too fast. |
I went from a 35 to a 44 this sign up with the same relief point downtown. I hate that place—I’ve been hassled a few times there. If I’m more than a few minutes early I’ll go to Java Man. The 44 is a lot spicier than I realized—at least at night. Hard to keep on time early in the shift and hard to manage the passengers later. I had more weird passenger experience in the first two weeks of sigh up than in the last year combined. Monday when the move up runs were posted, I looked to see if there was anything better than the 44 (I liked the hours, just not the traffic and the rose quarter) and I saw something with better hours and a weekend day off—something lower seniority me won’t see for a while, so I took it. Then Wednesday was a very weird experience at RQ with security pulling me off the bus and telling me to wait in the break room. Ok. I had no idea what was going on (and to their credit they handled it quickly, I was only 3-4 min late). I had to listen to the recorded calls when I got home to find out a man had been tasing people and chasing them around RQ and no one warned me not to open my door there, so apparently I let him on the bus. Or something like that. Security was already at RQ, so I was really grateful for that and for how quick they were to look out for me, but damn dispatch—you had 3 min to send me a message to hold before the RQ or don’t open my doors, or reroute to the 34 stop and up Larabee—something, anything to prevent him from getting on my bus and assaulting more people. The following day I found out I got approved for the move up route I selected, so that was a big relief after the crazy night I had the night before. So now I’m working a matinee and in all likelihood traded one set of problems for a different, but at least those problems will have me home before my dogs really get mad about dinner being late.
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