I’d Never Do Your Job

I come from a background where money may not be the root of all evil, and it was acknowledged that it did indeed grow on trees, but that there were two types of money: Good money and bad money. You never wanted to throw good money after bad. And there was a nuance between money earned and money given. Or money found by luck, or money made easy. I never heard too much about money made easy. Honest money made was the best money. A penny saved was a penny earned. But, boy did that sound like a lot of plodding and not too much fun. So it should come as no surprise, if I worked hard to make money, it should therefore be good money. I was pleased to find work as a transit operator in the city by the bay, the Bagdad by the bay, the city that never sleeps, which was a hard job but a good paying job. I hit the family ancestral jackpot. I was making good money at a hard job in line with my family history.

But I noticed early on in my Muni riding days, that some drivers looked relatively relaxed, and nothing seemed to phase them. And some were actually fun to talk to. And that there did seem to be a way in which to make their work look easy and relaxing, and yet is a high paying job. So the seed was planted early on that this might be a good job for me. As a Gemini sun sign, transportation and continual movement fits my sign.

My 4th grade art project was a drawing of the silver GM coaches that serviced the NY Port Authority from Jersey during the 60’s. Bus Driver is a job I have desired since the fourth grade. I have heard those who are successful in their jobs later in life, had a passion for those activities or skills from an early age.

But unlike Civil Engineer, Medical Doctor, Dentist, or Lawyer, Bus Driver did not seem to appear on the success roster. But I didn’t really care. Ralph Kramden was my hero. I saw no matter how half baked an idea was that I could hatch, as long as I had my friends, and made a connection with others, everything would turn out okay. When Jackie Gleason would exclaim, “How Sweet it Is!” I got it. I guess you could say the in a way, “The Honeymooners” was my imprint version of “The Wonder Years,” many followed in their youth in the eighties.

Fast forward to San Francisco and the late nineties. Newly elected Mayor Willie L. Brown Jr., Esq., was mandated to fix Muni in his first 100 days, and he took immediate action to hire more bus drivers. I went to the Moscone job fair and put in to get on the list. Finally, at age 39, I was finally making a plan about choosing a job that seemed more like a career or occupation than just a need to get another paycheck fast. I encourage anyone living paycheck to paycheck, or between jobs, to pause and look deep about what kind of service they want to provide to others. I would sit near the front seat when I rode the bus with Grandma. I liked it when the bus driver would talk to me. I still do, conditions permitting, and I feel like I am actually in a recruitment mode. Early first impressions can and do have a lasting effect on our life decisions later on down the road. Get them when they are young, and so I present myself as doing a fun job.

The first thing that comes up about why someone would not want my job is, “the people.” But where in the world do we not have a job involving other people? And if I am to be resentment free, can I not take quiet time every day to see what amends I can make to determine my part in any negative reaction? To me this is where the rubber meets the road. The path that separates the men from the boys. I see so many miserably quiet lives departing the bus after work daily I sometimes feel like I am the only happy bozo on the bus! Gee, is it that bad? And if I smile, I try to break the grimace of the boarding face. Usually it works.

I guess I need to do more research about why someone would never do my job, but I guess in a way it adds to my job security. Most people don’t realize once the mental hurdles are pushed into the background, it is the physical stress that can take its toll and put continued work in to jeopardy. Stopping and starting, braking on a downhill with a full load: day in and day out. As Harrison Ford quipped in one of his action movies after incredible odds, “It’s not the years, it’s the mileage.”

When my body starts to give me pain in a certain area, I take care of it immediately! I take care of the warning signs before I can barely step off the bus at the terminal because my hams and quads are all locked up. Repetitive stress requires repetitive stretching and massage.

Just as I have learned to eat on the fly, or pick food choices which are simple to munch on with only a few minutes of recovery time, so too, must we stretch and find a trainer or massage therapist we can meet on a regular basis to prevent our bodies from shutting down. I find myself going to Yoga on a regular basis. Going on leave is not the answer. Shutting down and doing nothing is never a good idea. So as long as we keep moving, we stay employed and enjoy the benefits of steady pay.

I envy musicians and artists who can bring home the bacon with their creative abilities, but also do other part time jobs to stay busy. There can be freedom in scheduling a week with personal choices rather than the ball and chain of a railway timetable, but I guess each lifestyle has it ups and its downs. There are those of us with stable government jobs who would do well to understand the creative mix of those who rotate with three part time jobs and free lance, to make ends meet. The lack of understanding about what needs be done to be work flexible, might lower tensions among the classes of workers who board the bus. Getting to the Zen zone keeps this in balance. I certainly have had to deal with these demons at the fare box, or when someone is running to get to the door.