Friday, November 24, 2017

From the drivers side

Transit consumes its workers. From the time we wake up until we can rest again, our bodies are tuned to the hum of 40,000 pounds on six wheels. It's not always a job you can leave behind, especially after a particularly rough day. It follows us home and haunts our dreams. There are times I awaken in a fit of terror, seeing what could have been had I not prevented it. Before you recover from one dream, the alarm sounds the start of yet another day's adventure. "Rinse and repeat," I call it, because as soon as you've washed the previous shift off your skin, another is about to begin.

 Our GM recently announced his retirement, lusting after his golden prize as we fear our impending demise. My first thought was, "What inept corporate robot will they choose for a replacement?" Surely, it won't be someone who has driven a bus for a living. That would be too eloquent a choice.

 The new Big Kahuna will be hired from the oozing growth of executives with "impressive" resumes, with transit workers who apply being given a pre-requisite few seconds of consideration. He or she will be lauded by the media as "a promising new direction in local transit." We will just nod our collective heads, saying "Yeah, right. Need some beachfront property in Tucson? I'll sell it to you cheap if you believe this swill."

 In the meantime, El Jéfe will luxuriate in his parting bonus, lauding his bridge to nowhere, laughing at his successfully-hidden raises to non-union employees while shrugging off a legacy toward banality. We're headed toward a heavily-taxed coffin, he's off to feast upon golden geese and Donny's tax cuts.

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