A stupid, meaningless job that paid pretty well

—“Wait a minute!” I shouted to a short bearded gentleman walking away from Eastview Mall’s rest-rooms.
I was walking toward the rest-rooms, and he looked Sicilian.
He was wearing a black jacket emblazoned with “Amalgamated Transit Union Local 282.”
“That’s my old bus-union,” I cried.
He looked at me quizzically. “What bus company?” he asked.
“Regional Transit Service, RTS. I drove for ‘em 16&1/2 years.”
“Schoolbus?” he asked.
Absolutely not,” I said. “Schoolbuses aren’t the real thing. Nine tons of hurtling steel, 56 passenger seats, ‘don’t get shot’.”
“What’s your badge-number?”
“1763; with 16&1/2 years I made the first page” (of the seniority list).
“Badge-numbers are up to the 5000s. When did you drive bus?”
“May 1977 through October 1993. My stroke ended it. That was caused by an undiagnosed heart-defect since repaired. I retired RTS on disability, but returned to work elsewhere.”
The dude was uncomfortable. Ladies never are. They love talking. The guy wanted to leave.
I gave him an out, but before I did I asked if he knew ***** *******
“Number-One on the seniority list. He should retire, but says he can’t.”
“He used to be a union official, but got voted out,” I said. “Supposedly suspect.”
Well, maybe so, but bus-driving is long ago for this kid.
“You have a college-degree, and drive bus? What was your major?”
“Bus-driving,” I always said.

• “Wait a minute!” is what I’m always accused of saying before I pontificate.
• RE: “RTS badge-number...” —My “badge-number” was my employee-number. RTS has incredible turnover = “Anyone can drive bus”/“fire ‘im!”
• I had a stroke October 26th, 1993. Just tiny detriments; I can pass for never having had a stroke.