Sympathy for the driver
Our writer rides The Better Way for an entire day to get a look at the life of beleaguered TTC staffers.
BY Chris Bilton February 27, 2008 12:02
It’s 5:30pm on a Friday and I’m packed crotch-to-briefcase on the westbound King streetcar next to an investment-banker type who seems to share my love of Use Your Illusion I, judging by what’s blasting from his headphones. A few moments ago, we simultaneously made a well-timed dash across Bay Street to catch the still-open doors of the streetcar, assuming, due to the crush of bodies at the top of the stairs, that we’d probably be turned away. Ho ho! Not the case. We quickly boarded as the doors hissed shut and the familiar “ding-ding†signaled our departure. And now, feeling the stuffy pillow of claustrophobia beginning to smother my air, I wonder if it was worth the effort. Will I ever be able to get off now that the driver is letting even more people on at the next stop and the entire entranceway right down the stairs is packed with equally desperate commuters?
As enervating and despair-inducing as the TTC can be, most riders’ five- to 20-second exchange with the driver will escalate no further than a disapproving glare or a withheld “thank you.†But multiply those few seconds of hostility by an entire workday and suddenly there’s a very high potential for traumatic instances. So high, in fact, that a recent report from the Toronto Star details an alarming number of drivers suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder similar to that experienced by soldiers. Drivers have been threatened, physically assaulted and even shot during altercations with passengers, and from 2005 to 2006 there was a nearly 25 per cent increase in reported crimes on TTC property. Rider frustration is one thing, but it’s just public transit, people.
The TTC’s chief safety officer, John O’Grady, explains that a lot of operator assaults arise out of fare disputes — hence the introduction of transferable passes last year to ease at least some of the tension. But operators still have to contend with all manner of enforcement issues, from smoking to general misbehaviour, along with fare collection. “[The driver] is not a police officer and has other duties, namely driving,†says O’Grady. “It’s a balancing act; enforcement of order and driving a 40-foot vehicle through the streets of Toronto.†At the fare box alone, drivers engage in a constant decision-making process, weighing whether to follow the letter of TTC law and risk confrontations by questioning people’s transfers, demanding student ID cards and demanding exact fares, or feigning ignorance to protect themselves and keep the vehicle moving — either way contributing to the inconsistency of service that only adds to customer dissatisfaction.
In order to exponentially increase my potential frustration factor and observe the driver/passenger interaction, I have extended my TTC ride for the duration of an entire day, from the morning rush to the late night bus. Enduring the sardine-packed downtown streetcar lines at 9am, the buses to the far reaches of North York through to the bleary surreality of a booze-breath Yonge Street “Vomit Comet†at 3am, it was an exhausting look into the varied world of customer service unlike any other in the city. So far, no one has been punched, but it’s been no cakeride, either. My most consistent opinion is that people are terribly inconsiderate to the drivers and each other when they cross over to TTC-land, while the drivers are appallingly inconsistent in terms of service, rules and procedure.
Returning to my own discomfort on the 504, I try to understand how the streetcar driver manages to concentrate with people standing directly beside him. Clearly this is a direct violation of the safety regulations (which require passengers to stand behind a line on the floor behind the driver’s seat), as it is now impossible to see anything to the right, and yet the driver seems content to let the situation sort itself out rather than inform potential passengers of the obvious fact that no one else can get on. This line of non-confrontation seems detrimental to all involved. But, often, the conflict comes to the driver.
Much earlier in the day, during a typical streetcar stoppage on my way out of the downtown core, our driver appeared to do what he could to find out what was going on, even leaving to check in with the streetcar stopped ahead of us. But he kept whatever information he had to himself, and it didn’t take long for a succession of irrational outbursts to occur. “You’re holding us up. I have a 10am appointment at Roncesvalles and I’m going to be late,†barked the fellow in front of me, his tone a huffy sort of disrespect. Almost immediately, a big guy from the back of the car strolled up to find out what was going on and joked, “You can’t hurt one of these things, it’s a fucking train.†After about 10 minutes of waiting, a woman sitting behind the driver suggested with courteous annoyance that maybe he should make an announcement.
Within the span of a few minutes, the range of emotional exchanges between the driver and passengers was dizzying. Our driver managed to be helpful, annoyed, incompetent and non-confrontational. And it seemed that most of the frustration stemming from a pretty standard occurrence could have been avoided had he simply told people to the best of his knowledge what was going on instead of waiting for them to get curious and/or annoyed enough to have to come up and find out for themselves.
The rest of my morning involved a student getting hassled, but ultimately let on, for using the wrong transfer on the College streetcar, and a lengthy jaunt up Jane and along Finch where drivers were variously happy to assist with direction and later given the unenviable task of short-turning right in front of a youngster on crutches. Afterwards, it was headlong into the after-school rush. As the crush of students clambered aboard, I wondered if everyone just happened to show their student ID or if it was far easier for the driver to assume that a bunch of kids with backpacks getting on together are all legit.
Much later, riding in the surreal cream-coloured prototype belly of a Bloor Street blue bus, I try to determine if those kids were as intimidating as the intoxicated intensity of an entertainment-district reveller on a brutal comedown and without correct change? Through my own dislocated numbness brought on by riding the TTC all day, it seems that whichever rider the driver has to face, the sheer repetition and volume of exchanges that the job demands is hardly conducive to clear judgment or sharp reflexes. Avoiding confrontation may simply be the most efficient and effective way to keep working.
So how can drivers cultivate a more stringent authority? O’Grady hopes that part of the solution will come with the increase in service announced in mid-February, as it should lessen the load and allow drivers to focus more on the job at hand rather than crowd control. But would all riders be better behaved if they knew they could count on service? This may reduce the odds of traumatic conflict, but there is still nothing between the driver and a potentially dangerous passenger. And since much of the job requires the driver’s discretion, they will ultimately be the personification of any problem. Maybe if we’re forced to wait for the next streetcar more often, we’ll realize that the drivers are simply steering the problems as best they can.
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