Slipping

This morning’s dream (Wednesday, September 29, 2010) was about being late for work at Regional Transit.
Transit had a word for it: “slipping.”
For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, NY, a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and its environs. My stroke October 26, 1993 ended that.
Over that time I was never late for work once, although I tried awfully hard one afternoon.
A downpour began as I started my motorcycle, so I parked it and got in my car.
I made it to work with seconds to spare.
Regional Transit was the largest arm of RGRTA (Rochester Genesee Regional Transportation Authority), transit bus-service in Rochester and its environs.
“Slipping” violated one of the three cardinal rules of Transit, which were: —1) Show up, —2) Don’t hit anything, and —3) Keep your hands outta the farebox.
We bus-drivers had a fourth rule never revealed to management — I’m sure they were aware of it.
It was DON’T GET SHOT!
Our clientele could be difficult sometimes.
When it came to fares and rules we didn’t push too hard.
Violate any of the three cardinal rules and management called you in.
You might get fired.
Management was very specific about “slipping.”
Report to work one second late, and you were late.
This seems silly, but I thought it eminently fair.
It took management favoritism out of the equation.
Avoiding “slipping” seems to have degraded since my stroke.
I often am late for various appointments, although when that happens ya don’t get the third degree.
At Transit I figured travel-time so I wouldn’t slip; 45 minutes from here in West Bloomfield to Transit in Rochester.
I might be 20-30 minutes early.
It allowed me to more thoroughly pre-check my bus; e.g. make sure all the lug-nuts were tight, all the lights worked, and the horn and wipers.
We were paid 10 minutes to pre-check our bus, but that wasn’t enough.
Most drivers performed a cursory pre-check, or did nothing.
But I wasn’t having a wheel come off.
One morning I was driving out in the country, switched on my high-beams, and nothing. Pitch-dark at 30-40 mph and nothing.
I also found loose lug-nuts enough times I always checked.
So this morning I was out in the Barns, yammering.
I thought I had enough time.
When I reported for my bus-assignment I was about two minutes late.
I had “slipped.”
First time ever.

• I had a stroke October 26, 1993.
• We live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester.
• The “Genesee” (“jen-uh-SEE”) is a fairly large river that runs south-to-north across Western New York, runs through Rochester, including over falls, and empties into Lake Ontario.
• The “Barns” are large sheds the buses are parked inside. The “Barns” are also where Regional Transit conducts its operations from attached buildings. We always said we worked outta “the Barns.” (1372 E. Main St., Rochester, a little way east of downtown.) —They were about 35 minutes from where we live.