Sam, Sam, the junkman

During my 16&1/2 years of driving bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS), the provider of transit bus service in Rochester (NY) and environs......
They had a rule that a bus-driver had to show up on time. This was to the second, which may seem ridiculous to the average person.
But I felt it eminently fair, since it took management out of the equation. A driver had to report on time; there was no management cutting favors.
If you reported late, you “slipped.” That was what it was called.
An extra driver was assigned your work, and you might lose the entire day, unless they needed you elsewhere.
Slip enough times and you were fired.
Over 16&1/2 years I never slipped, although I tried hard once.
I was going to ride my motorcycle, but it started pouring. I had to park my motorcycle and get out my car.
I made it, barely. I had to run.
Bus-drivers used to play the rule.
They’d watch the clock, and report maybe 2-3 seconds early.
What I did was report 15-20 minutes early, so I could check lugnuts on my bus.
Lugnuts are what hold the wheel on.
The bus-company has since instituted some gizmo to indicate loose lugnuts.
But back during my time I had to check ‘em with my fingers.
I’d find loose lugnuts often enough to keep checking. When I did, I was punished by sending me to the tire-room to have ‘em tightened.
That’s 5-10 minutes, which woulda been late-out if I’d not shown up early.
I wanted to be on-time, since I’d long-ago rode bus myself.
Of course, Transit woulda been happy to fire me if a wheel fell off and creamed a four-wheeler; and/or sent me into the trees.
I had an afternoon pull-out at 1:30 or so. Sam, Sam, the junkman was behind the window, taking reports and assigning buses.
Sam and I weren’t friendly. Sam was a jerk.
Sam eventually got fired. He’d gone out on disability; supposed back-problems.
Except management photographed him moving his sister’s sofa. That was like him, a jerk.
I showed up to report, and Sam assigned me a bus.
I went out to look for it, but it wasn’t there.
So I went back inside to see Sam again.
He assigned me another bus.
Also not there, so I went back.
Sam assigned me another bus.
Also not there; back again.
This was getting my Irish up.
After five tries, I castigated Sam.
“Games, my man? I haven’t got all day, and I’m not interested in running back-and-forth.”
True to form, Sam snarled and hit me with the third degree.
In Sam’s favor, there’s a pretty good likelihood bus-drivers were just taking whatever bus they wanted, oblivious to their assignment.
I call him “Sam, Sam, the junkman” because he usually assigned me junk — a bus that would hardly operate.
The afternoon pull-outs were often Park-and-Rides, and usually merited a Park-and-Ride bus, a soft-seater over-the-road bus with a three-speed transmission — not a city bus, which had hard fiberglas seats and a two-speed tranny.
Sam would see me coming and pick out the junkiest bus he could find, mainly because I wasn’t bellowing at him like other drivers.

• RE: “behind the window......” —The room where all the bus-drivers congregated was adjacent to an area where officials managed the drivers and assigned buses. This area was walled off by glass, and had small openings toward the drivers’ area; they were known as “the window.” A bus-driver would report for work at “the window,” after which he received a bus-assignment. “The window” also had a tape-recorder.
• “Tranny” is the transmission on a motor-vehicle.
• “Park-and-Rides” were trips from suburban or rural end-points, usually through Park-and-Ride parking-lots, where passengers would park their cars for a bus-ride to work in Rochester.