Sounds plausible.......

“Washington was afraid we’d go with the Teamsters.”
An opinion of why Local 282, the Rochester division of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union (“What’s ‘ATU?’”) had been “trusteed.”
For 16&1/2 years I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service in Rochester, NY; where Local 282 was my bus-union. I belonged to Local 282.
“Trusteed” means our union has been taken over by ATU headquarters in Washington, DC, and our local union officials thrown out.
As a retiree, I’m not involved in day-to-day operations of our union versus my old employer.
In fact, while still employed, it seemed possible to work independent of our union — that -a) the union got us a good pay rate and benefits, and -b) it interceded for naughties, which I wasn’t.
I wasn’t working out of a union hall.
I’d report to the Company each morning, then go my way.
Once-in-a-while I got called on-the-carpet, but never felt compelled to involve the union.
My sins were minor, more management being a nuisance — exercising its cajones.
I was one of their most valued employees, primarily because I followed the three basic rules of bus-driving: -1) show up; -2) don’t hit anything, and -3) keepyour hands outta the farebox.
“Ya know Bob, I think you’re right,” a manager once told me.
But I didn’t feel the Union was a waste.
My pay and benefits were what they were because of that Union.
But Local 282 wasn’t much of a union; most members were always badmouthing it.
There wasn’t much support; just the mechanics. The mechanics were on-the-Property all day; bus-drivers were far afield driving bus.
I started a voluntary union newsletter, the infamous “282-News.”
As such I got to see how intransigent management was; fatcats collecting bloated salaries.
They refused to accept that we union-members were instrumental to their fat incomes. If anything went wrong, it was always the union’s fault.
I guess things have gotten worse since I retired.
I retired in late 1993; a disability retirement caused by my stroke.
Transit is on its third head-honcho since I retired, and he’s reportedly even more intransigent and obfuscatory then when I was there.
The current head-honcho is a media-heavy, obsessed with cultivating favorable public relations.
Transit keeps operating seemingly independent of his ministrations, providing pretty much the same service as when I was there.
Service which says the bus can take ya downtown, but forget the south.
Interviewing for a single job down there, without a car, is an all-day endeavor.
Service out there is rudimentary; there are no established bus-corridors in place.
And like-it-not, all buses to the south hit MarketPlace Mall, since that’s where the fares are. —Except Park-and-Rides, carting suburban stiffs to-and-from work in downtown Rochester.
We also got to cart the halt, the maim, those that cannot otherwise drive cars.
E.g. those with their driver’s-license suspended due to a driving-while-intoxicated conviction.
Such a person felt all society was arrayed against them, so challenged the bus-driver.
If things got outta hand, we’d radio for help, but Transit was no help.
If we called in the cops, a Transit Supervisor also showed up and told everyone it was our fault.
He’d try to placate everyone so you could keep driving the miscreant.
They were not about to throw off a threat to your safety.
At first the trusteeship was supposedly because our union didn’t comply with the ATU constitution.
We had two full-time paid union officers. We were only supposed to have one.
(A bylaw change rectified that.)
Two full-time union officers were costly. There was concern our union’s finances were becoming insolvent.
Beyond that, we had not been able to hammer out a renewed contract with our Company for over three years.
The implication was our union officials were incompetent and lazy, but in my humble opinion, this is as much the Company as the Union.
The Company was stonewalling, hoping the union-membership would eventually get antsy.
They did, calling ATU headquarters in Washington DC to complain.
Beyond that, a HUGE stack of grievances was piling up; over 350+. All would have to be arbitrated.
Arbitration is to present the facts of a dispute before an impartial arbitrator agreed to by both parties — he/she settles the dispute.
Arbitrations were being scheduled out to 2016.
Every arbitration costs about $6,000; lawyers, etc.
Multiply that by 350 and you have a fortune. —The Company was bankrupting our Union.
Washington’s solution was to pretty much give the Company what it wanted. Throw out most of the arbitrations, and settle a contract pretty much on the Company’s terms.
Nothing new; I still have a pack of grievances in my desk-drawer from 1993. Nothing ever came of them.
Our union’s Executive-Board was not included in contract negotiations; in fact, it didn’t even get to consider interest-arbitration.
Interest-arbitration is to consider a fact-finder’s report which would be presented in front of an impartial arbitrator agreed to by both parties.
As public-employees in New York state, we couldn’t strike.
The arbitrator would then dictate a contract.
But the membership was antsy. They decided to call Washington headquarters, who took over and gave the Company what it wanted.
By so doing, our membership shot themselves in the foot.
Our two local union officials are somewhat to blame, for not being able to get the Company to treat with the Union.
The union-president retired and seems to have disappeared.
The Business-Agent goes back to driving bus, after over 20 years.
Top of the seniority list.
To my mind they were both horrible bus-drivers; more union than inspired to get the job done.
My passengers loved me; I was running on time no matter what.
It was a reflection of my having once been a bus-passenger myself.
I certainly changed off plenty of unsafe buses, but I remember driving one with no rear brakes. All it had was front brakes which skidded on the ice. What rear brakes I had were the flyoff parking-brake handle.
Okay, trusteeship over, a new Local 282 president gets installed.
I doubt it makes any difference — except the Company got what it wanted.
Union-members are always badmouthing union officials.
282 is always reprehensible.
The Company is taking advantage of that.
Justification for trusteeing our union is now “malfeasance and malpractice” of our local union officials.
I don’t think those guys were that bad. Perhaps more inclined to mouth off instead of pursue things. But that’s how bus-drivers are.
The glut of arbitrations is as much the Company as the Union — more so.
The guy from Washington, International Vice-President Gary Rauen (“ROW-in;” as in “wow”) gave an example of what he felt was a silly arbitration; an arbitration where a bus-driver was fired for using his cellphone while driving bus.
“Cellphone use while driving is illegal in this state,” Rauen bellowed.
Well excuse me, but as I recall the reason we voted to arbitrate was not cellphone use. It was the Company not following agreed-to disciplinary policy.
Following is an OCR scan of a blurb about our union that appeared in the ATU’s nationwide house-organ “In-Transit.” I guess it’s a report to an ATU convention. I include it because it reminds me of Politburo drivel in Russia:
“REPORT ON LOCAL 282 FINANCES
International Vice President Rauen advised the Board that he and International Representative Gary Johnson Sr., had recently provided a full report on the worsening financial condition of Local 282 (Rochester, NY) which was well received by the rank-and-file (rank-and-vile?) membership.
A set of recommended bylaw amendments are slated to restructure the local union’s governance by assigning all business agent duties to the president, making the financial secretary post a part-time position, cutting the number of executive board members, reducing total officer compensation, and otherwise cutting routine expenses.
It was further reported that a plan has been developed to address a considerable backlog of grievance cases pending arbitration through improved labor management relations and to otherwise resolve long-outstanding issues in collective bargaining.”
Of interest to me is that the next ATU convention takes place at DisneyWorld in Orlando, FL; the Land of Make-Believe.

• “What’s ‘ah-two?’” is something my mother asked seeing my ATU (Amalgamated Transit Union) button.
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993.
• “MarketPlace Mall” is a very large shopping-mall south of Rochester, probably the largest in the area.
• A “change-off” was replacement of a defective bus with a good one.
• “International” because ATU represents in both the U.S. and Canada.
• “OCR scan” is an optical-character-recognition scan; a scan whereby the computer recognizes the letters in a scan, and creates a text-file.

Trusteed!

Local 282 has been trusteed.
“Trusteed” means officials from headquarters have taken over our union, and thrown out our local union officers.
Local 282 is the Rochester Division of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union (“what’s ‘ATU?’”), and represents union employees of Regional Transit Service.
That’s bus-drivers, mechanics, and a few others.
282 also represents other transit operations; mainly an affiliated para-transit, and an unaffiliated transit operation in a county not part of the Rochester Genesee Regional Transportation Authority (RGRTA).
Regional Transit is my old employer in Rochester, NY, where I drove transit bus 16&1/2 years (1977-1993). My stroke ended it.
I was a member of Local 282.
An informational meeting was held last night (Wednesday, February 3, 2010) supposedly to inform members why our union had been trusteed, and what was happening.
About 50-60 were there — not that good, but better than 10.
Why our union had been trusteed was not specifically clarified — at least not in agreement with the apparent reasons.
The original threat of trusteeship was because our union was not in compliance with the ATU constitution.
We had two full-time paid union officers; the constitution said we should only have one.
Bylaw changes were floated a few months ago to implement this, but they were voted down.
At the last regular monthly business meeting more bylaw changes were presented to implement those same changes, and were approved.
I suppose that scotched the original justification for trusteeing us, so the justification became “malfeasance and malpractice” of our union officers in financial matters.
Seems there was a more underlying cause: the fact nothing was happening.
But as far as I can see, this is also a function of our Company’s attitude, which was to deny everything, and force us to arbitrate, which bankrupts the union.
As a result, a HUGE stack of arbitrations had built up; at least 350.
So many they were being scheduled out to 2016.
“That’s ridiculous,” Washington said. “That only gives them more reason to deny.”
So now the justification is “malfeasance and malpractice.”
But as far as I can see, it’s the fact we are at seeming impasse.
Plus every arbitration costs around $6,000. Multiply that by 350+ and you have a fortune.
“Malfeasance and malpractice,” they said. Much like paying two full-time union officers instead of one.
The trustees are union vice-president Gary Rauen (“ROH-in”) from Washington, DC, and union vice-president Joe Welch from Syracuse.
“I’d like to set a few ground rules,” Rauen said as he started the meeting.
“Any yelling and screaming, and I’m leaving.”
“Ugh,” I thought to myself. “No blog material.”
He detailed why 282 had been trusteed, in his opinion.
It seemed couched in those 350+ arbitrations.
Plus our contract with Transit was at impasse after three years.
Only with his input was a contract settled.
He then entertained questions; but “no screaming please.”
“You mean to tell me the input of our union Executive Board was silly?” asked my old friend Bob Ross.
“We recommended every one of those arbitrations, and our membership approved.” (Maybe 15-20 per vote.)
“Yeah, but every nickel-and-dime issue isn’t worth $6,000 each. What I want is one arbitration that settles maybe 20.”
My old friend Roland Melvin sat down behind me.
“Still at it?” I asked.
“So where are ya now on the Seniority List?” I whispered.
Eight from the top,” he answered.
It’s amazing to think if I were still driving bus, I’d be almost to the top of the Seniority List.
Roland is one class after me.
But my stroke ended it; well short of Roland.
“Management says ya can’t wear a Yankees hat. We shouldn’t arbitrate that,” Rauen said.
I glanced at Roland, who was wearing his Washington Redskins hat.
“I don’t drive bus with this hat,” he said.
“Nor should we be arbitrating cellphone use,” said Rauen.
“Cellphone use while driving is against the law in this state, yet here I got a bus-driver yammering on his cellphone while driving bus with passengers at 50 mph through a construction zone.”
As far as I know we approved arbitration on the fact the Company did not follow disciplinary procedure; not cellphone use.
The dreaded Ozzie was recognized.
“Here you guys come in and take over our union, and throw out our duly-elected officers,” Ozzie said. “How do I know you’re not up to no-good?”
“Oh, Ozzie,” cried my friend Dominick Zarcone (“zar-CONE”), who just recently resigned in disgust as a union officer, still drives bus, and was in the class behind me.
“Blog material,” I shouted.
“How about that?” Rauen said. “The guy walks out without letting me respond.”
Another blog-material activist was recognized; “I wanna ask about arbitrations.”
“Don’t even go there, Brother,” Rauen butted in. “I can’t discuss specific arbitrations.”
Blog-material started getting strident.
Rauen shut him down.
What’ll it be; pursue the matter further, or Rauen shut down the meeting?
Somewhat cowed, blog-material made his question more general; an answer that had already been given.
My perception is that trusteeship is what is needed to drag our union kicking-and-screaming into the 21st century.
A while ago 282 proposed a computer purchase but it was voted down.
Someone blustered he could get the same stuff from his sister for $400. —About $1,600 worth of equipment.
Part of the deal was to install the vaunted MUMs software from ATU; for which we’d get a rebate or something.
MUMs software tracks every union expense and income.
“At the moment your Business-Agent has to track everything in a book — a project that may take all day,” Rauen said. “Do that with MUMs and it won’t take anywhere near that.”
“So are we getting MUMs?” someone asked.
“Yep,” Rauen said. “Computers too. MUMs installed tomorrow.”
Um, guys; our membership voted that down. So our two union officers walked away. We need a trusteeship to drag us into the new century?
The reason all this is happening is because Mr. Rauen got results, and can therefore break the bank. He got Transit, in its infinite wisdom, to stop stalling and give us a contract.
To my mind that is more negotiating prowess; a prowess our two full-time union officers lack.
At impasse they threw up their hands and walked away. Rauen can negotiate; and parry blowhards.
“So what happens after you leave?” someone asked. “Back to intransigence and impasse? That’s what we’re all worried about.”
“It’s not about me, Brother,” Rauen said. “There’s only one God, and it ain’t me.”
Well, some can move mountains and some can’t.
I don’t think our old officers could move mountains, and doubt there’s anyone in the wings.
My perception is that it took three years to get help from ATU, despite all our asking.
And their response is to flip-flop our union, although I think it needed it.
Meeting ended, Bob Ross came over to greet me.
We shook hands, but as often happens to this old stroke-survivor, my speech-center froze, and I couldn’t say anything.
“Wassa matter?” Ross asked. “How come you’re not saying anything?”
“Sometimes the speech-center freezes, and I can’t get anything out,” I responded sheepishly.
“I understand,” Ross said. “Good to see you!”
“We sure had fun with that newsletter,” I said.
“We sure did.”
“Remember that cartoon we ran of the motor-cradle falling out of the back of a bus?” I said.
“We had all those clowns running for cover,” Ross said. “Politicians were calling to ask what was going on.”
“Stuff like that usually got hush-hushed. Best part was that actually happened,” I said.
Then I was greeted by my friend Dick Bastedo (“bas-TEE-doh”), who like me was one of Transit’s favorite bus-drivers. He’s won the annual local bus-roadeo many times. —Even the nationwide bus-roadeo.
“So whadya think?” Bastedo asked.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“350+ arbitrations is a bit over the top, but that’s as much the Company as the union,” I said.
Bastedo introduced me to another another bus-driver; one I didn’t know, which means he was probably hired after my stroke.
“This is Bob Hughes,” Bastedo said. “He used to do the union newsletter.”
Union vice-president Ray Dunbar (“DONE-bar”) arrived.
“It was him and Dunbar,” Bastedo said.
“Yeah,” I said. “It was Dunbar’s idea, and then we passed ‘em out before work. And then Dunbar would spray them all over the city to local politicians.”
“Some day I’ll bring in the copies I still have, so you can see them,” Bastedo said to his friend.
“You mean to tell me you still have all those silly newsletters?” I asked.
“Of course I do,” Bastedo said. “They were really great.
Best one that ever was had that cartoon depicting road-supervisor Gary Damore (“duh-MORE”) as a bulldog named “Dippity Dawg.”
“Actually that was Frank’s idea (union Business Agent Frank Falzone [“fowl-ZONE]), but I ran with it,” I said.
Bus-driver Vince Arena was being mugged by students at East High School, so the radio called up the nearest road-supervisor to assist, and that was Dippity Dawg, but he was glomming donuts three blocks away at the nearby Mickey D’s.
“‘I’ll get right on it, boss,’ but the import of the cartoon was he’d get on it after he finished his donuts.”
“Made him madder than a hornet,” Bastedo said. “Gary knew he couldn’t do anything.”
“Yeah, we had him royally skonked,” I said.
“So what happened?” his friend asked. “We could still use a newsletter like that.”
“Well, I did have a stroke,” I said. “That finished it.
I think the reason management caved and gave us a contract is partly because they lost their beloved Transit Center,” I said.
“That was (Rochester mayor Bob) Duffy,” Bastedo observed. “Duffy hates Mark Aesch (“Ash;” Transit’s head-honcho). He called him a liar.”

• “What’s ‘ah-two?’” is something my mother asked seeing my ATU (Amalgamated Transit Union) button.
• “The Rochester Genesee Regional Transportation Authority” is a local public authority to supervise transit in the area near Rochester and the Genesee River. It’s public — its employees can’t strike.
• “Bob Hughes” is of course me, “BobbaLew.”
• RE: “Union newsletter....” —During my final year at Transit I did a voluntary union newsletter called the “282-News” that caused weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth among Transit management. It was great fun; and I did it with Microsoft Word — although it required a lot of time.
• A “road-supervisor” was a car-mounted management person to supervise and assist bus-drivers.
• “Mickey D’s” is McDonald’s.
• RE: “Transit Center....” —RGRTA was proposing a Transit Center downtown, affiliated with a downtown campus of a local community college, and a theater for community productions, partly to get bus-loading off the main drag. But it was a massive boondoggle that depended on federal funding. The proposed downtown Transit Center got scotched by Rochester mayor Bob Duffy, because sufficient funding would need to be raised by donation for the theater, and it wasn’t there yet. Scotching it denied Transit manager Mark Aesch of his beloved Transit Center.

Sigh........

Another regular monthly meeting of Local 282 of the Amalgamated Transit Union comes and goes.
Local 282 is the Rochester division of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union (ATU — “What’s ‘ah-two?’”), my old bus union at Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, NY.
For 16 & 1/2 years, 1977-1993, I drove transit-bus for RTS — my stroke ended that.
I was a public employee; our union couldn’t strike.
Our union is sort of a joke, but mainly because it’s not very well supported.
Bus drivers are pretty much on their own every day, so don’t act much like a union.
The mechanics are more a union — they’re together on the property all the time.
I missed the last two meetings. Last time I forgot, and before that I don’t remember why.
Our union is in question. For the past three years contract negotiations have been stalemated, and were only settled after an International Vice-President from Washington DC got involved.
The International was threatening to trustee our union. Union finances were at issue, as well as the humungous number of pending arbitrations.
At issue was whether our union officials were competent — they seemed to be getting nowhere.
Seems this happened the last time contract negotiations were at impasse. An International vice-president from Syracuse had to get involved.
“Trustee” is to take over our union from Washington DC, and throw our local union officials out.
I strode into the Men's Room before the meeting and met Frank Falzone (“fowl-ZONE”), our union full-time business-agent.
A proposed bylaw change, which would have brought our local into compliance with the International Constitution, to reduce our full-time union employees from two to one, by combining the offices of union president and business-agent into one full-time union official, had been defeated by our membership.
—Although not many had voted; maybe 30 out of 350.
“So I’m wondering if we’re still alive, Frank,” I said; “which is why I came.”
“Oh, same-old, same-old,” he said. “Still here, more-or-less.”
My attendance at these meetings is rather silly. As a retiree I can’t vote.
About all I’m doing is supporting my union by showing up.
Which is why they loved me at Transit; I showed up. —It was a stupid meaningless job with a difficult clientele, but it paid fairly well, and driving large vehicles was fun for a while.
It was so challenging, many employees became attendance problems, but not me. It was possible to avoid madness if ya knew what you were doing.
And there was great joy in slamming a bus down the expressway at 65 mph in the passing-lane.
A few things happened at the missed meetings, apparently.
A union-representative, who advocated for bus drivers in disputes with management, quit, and was apparently replaced.
The part-time union Recording Secretary presented a slew of proposed bylaw changes to affect, more-or-less, the changes voted down.
All passed except one, which our union officials advised against.
But it was the usual peanuts voting contingent; maybe 20.
Local 282 also represents other transit operations, primarily a para-transit, and a small transit operation in nearby Canandaigua.
Canandaigua is in a county not part of the area-wide transit authority.
But mainly Local 282 is Regional Transit Service.
After the bylaw votes, a couple proposed arbitrations were trotted by.
The usual stupid stonewalling by management requiring us to arbitrate.
Some of it was management timeliness — our contract has time limits on certain things.
After that, Frank gave a short Business-Agent’s report, and we adjourned.
No yelling, no screaming; not much blog material.
The best reflection of that was Frank saying “I’m not being negative here......”
A while ago a proposed computer purchase that would have brought our union into the new century was scotched by blowhards loudly claiming they could get the same equipment from somebody’s sister for only $400.

• “What’s ‘ah-two?’” is something my mother asked seeing my ATU button.
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993.
• ATU is international because it represents transit operations in the United States and Canada.
• “Canandaigua” (“cannon-DAY-gwuh”) is a small city nearby where we live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” —It’s about 15 miles away. —The noninvolved county is “Ontario.”

Yada-yada-yada-yada

I’ve attended another meeting of Local 282, the Rochester local of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union, the union for bus-company employees; bus-drivers, mechanics, etc.
For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service, the transit-bus operator in Rochester, NY.
My stroke October 26, 1993 retired me suddenly on disability; although I was tiring of it.
I belonged to Local 282, the bus-union at Transit (Regional Transit Service).
Last night’s (Thursday, October 15, 2009) meeting was significant. The International (headquarters) in Washington D.C. was threatening to trustee us.
Over three years had passed without a contract, and 400+ grievances were to be arbitrated.
This was stonewalling by our bosses, but the implication was that our local leadership was dysfunctional.
An International Vice-President had been sent to —1) see what was going on, and —2) try to resolve a contract with our bosses.
Regarding the first item:
—Our union has two full-time officials, a President and a Business-Agent.
Most other locals have only one; a combination President/Business-Agent.
Going to only one full-time officer would save money — our union is severely in debt.
(Well sure; our bosses at Transit have us swimming in lawyer fees.)
Our union’s response is a slew of bylaw changes, to implement the savings needed.
Whether our current leadership can deal with the bosses at Transit is debatable — it seems they couldn’t, whereas the International Vice-President could.
Regarding the second item:
—Transit is almost impossible to negotiate with.
They always have an excuse to avoid negotiations.
And the head-honcho doesn’t participate at all. All he does is preen for the TV cameras — like Transit is a smashing success because of his administration. He brags about making a “profit;” and was written up as such in the N.Y. Times.
Um, a “surplus” is hardly a “profit.” Seems the N.Y. Times forgot Transit was a “not-for-profit;” a publicly funded enterprise.
—Our union is not allowed to strike; it’s illegal.
Our union is a public-employees union.
To supposedly offset the fact that we can’t strike, we negotiate with our employers.
If that doesn’t work (and it didn’t), impasse is declared, and the contract dispute goes to fact-finding by an impartial party.
If the contract is still not resolved, we can go to arbitration, whereby an independent arbitrator writes the contract.
This happened years ago. An independent arbitrator allowed the Company to have part-time workers, a condition our union would have never allowed.
Contract arbitration is always a gamble — win some, lose some.
The International Vice-President, one Gary Rauen (“ROW-in;” as in “wow”), wanted to avoid contract arbitration.
As such, this so-called “significant” union-meeting turned out to be not what was predicted.
There was no discussion of the threat to trustee our union — a condition Rauen somewhat suggested.
Instead, it was Rauen saying “lemme tell ya where we’re at.”
Apparently he managed to get Transit to negotiate, although I think our bosses were noticing our membership was fed up.
“I don’t like it,” he said; “but it’s better than arbitration.
At least you’re getting to vote on a proposed contract — which is better than rolling the dice.
Go to arbitration, and ya get half of what your bosses want, including Mark Aesch’s (“ahshh”) beloved ‘Incentive Program.’
He went down to N.Y. City and presented his Incentive Program to transit managers statewide; they moaned and told him to take it back to Rochester.
‘Well, I’ll show yaz!’ he said. ‘I’ll get it in my contract.’
Guys, this Incentive Program sucks. It’s playing off the good guys against the so-called ‘bad.’
Debbie walks into the negotiating room, and asks a favor; that we separate the Incentive Program from the contract, and vote on both.
If the contract passes, okay; and if the Incentive Program fails, that’s okay too; we have a contract.
Guys, it’ll never pass.
Aesch comes down to the Drivers’ Room, and bewails the union badmouthing his Incentive Program, which would reward bazilyuns to his goody two-shoes.
He was sent packing — told to never do that sort of thing again.
We’re very close, Brothers. They asked me to come back at 10 p.m. tonight, so we can hammer out the final details.
I don’t like it, but it’s better than arbitration.”
Not the meeting I expected — Rauen left; about an hour.
I should mention this meeting prompted almost a hundred to attend.
That’s a record. Usually there’s question of whether we can generate a quorum; 15.
Many were retirees though, or so it seemed. I saw many who drove bus back when I did — now retired.
Of interest to me was “no reduction of retiree benefits.” —My health-insurance is a Transit retiree benefit.
The Recording-Secretary thereupon began reading all the proposed bylaw changes.
No discussion, just reading. Discussion and vote (fireworks) will be next meeting; I don’t know if I will attend — but probably will.
Various blabbermouths tried to start discussion, but were quashed by Union Vice-President Ray Dunbar.
“Way to go, Ray!” someone yelled.
The two current full-time officers sat quietly while bylaw changes were read that would put one of them out of a job.
Another blusterhead tried to derail International Vice-President Rauen earlier, but Rauen deflected him.
It’s obvious. Rauen knows how to parry blusterheads; no wonder he got somewhere with Aesch and his lackeys.
The Recording-Secretary was a bit flustered reading all the proposed bylaw changes. Most difficult was “he-slash-she,” which was in every phrase. “Yada-yada-yada-yada,” at the speed-of-light.
“Do we have a motion to adjourn?” asked President Joe Carey (“CARRY”).
“So moved.” 9:30 p.m. — not too bad. Many had already left.

• I had a stroke October 26, 1993.
• “Trustee us” is to take over local administration of our union.
• “Mark Aesch” is the head-honcho at Transit.
• “Debbie” is a Transit official; one of Mark Aesch’s lackeys.

“8:39........

.......that has to be a record,” said 282 Recording-Secretary John Blocchi (“BLOCK-eee”)
“282” is the Rochester division (“Local 282”) of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union, my old bus union at Regional Transit Service, the transit-bus operator in Rochester, NY, where I drove transit-bus for 16&1/2 years until my stroke.
Local 282 holds three regular monthly business meetings the third Thursday of each month: 10 a.m., 3 p.m., and 8 p.m.
The 3 p.m. meeting was essentially my doing.
Attending the 8 p.m. meeting was virtually impossible for an early pull-out like me. And at 10 a.m. I was working.
The 8 p.m. meeting might last until 10 p.m.; then 45-50 minutes to drive home; so in bed at 11 p.m.
Get right back up at 3 a.m., so I could pull out a bus at 5 a.m.
So I circulated a petition. Early pull-outs were being circumstantially blocked from attending meetings.
The petition passed, and the International office in Washington D.C. liked the idea, so 3 p.m. meetings began.
I guess they still have them, although my stroke ended my bus-driving career way back in 1993.
The meeting started on time at 8 p.m. with the Pledge-of-Allegiance to the flag, and a moment of standing silence for recently deceased members, both of whom I didn’t know, since they were mechanics.
Only four attended; one of the four being me. Eight if you include the union officials.
At least 17 or more attended the morning meeting, and 10 or more the afternoon meeting. So we had a quorum.
Union support is always a joke. Our union has almost 650 members. The ones that are bus-drivers are all ornery — you couldn’t succeed if ya weren’t.
The mechanics are ornery too; as a result of being managed by jerks.
The bus-drivers, being pretty much on-their-own all day, aren’t very connected to the Union.
And we don’t have a “Hall.” (What we have are Union offices in a building down the street from Transit — that building also has a large meeting-room inside; where we hold our meetings.)
What we have is “the Drivers’ Room,” which is on Transit property, and overseen by management.
As a concession to the Union, it has a tiny bulletin-board off in a dark alcove.
Union officers visit occasionally, but the bus-drivers have to hit it daily. Rumors fly and can’t be squelched.
Union officials are fairly available if called, but there’s a likelihood you’ll get an answering-machine.
It’s an arrangement that works against the Union: “the Drivers’ Room.”
Of the four on hand, three were Transit (one being me; retired), and one was LiftLine.
“LiftLine” is the area’s “Dial-a-Bus” service. Its Operations-Center is at another location separate from Transit, but it’s affiliated, since both LiftLine and Transit are run by the Rochester Genesee Regional Transportation Authority.
So LiftLine is also 282.
So is a private bus operator in adjacent Ontario County (where we live). —Ontario County doesn’t belong to the Rochester Genesee Regional Transportation Authority (“RGRTA”).
About 10 or so proposed LiftLine arbitrations were rattled off for vote by the single LiftLine attendee.
Only four arbitrations for Transit.
Next was the report by 282’s Business-Agent: Frank Falzone (“fowl-ZONE”).
“Blah-blah-blah” then “I wanna squelch a rumor that Joe and I were against back-pay in a proposed contract.” (“Joe” is Joe Carey [‘carry’], president of Local 282.)
—282 has been without a contract with Transit since late 2006. By law, we operate under the old contract.
“This is bunk!” Frank said. “We never would accept no back pay. Ahem; ‘Read-my-Lips!’”
That completed: “Any new business?” Joe asked.
“Any old business?
With nothing presented, I’ll entertain a motion to adjourn.”
Boom-zoom.
“Gotta go pull a bus out,” a Transit attendee said. He walked outside and down Main St. toward the Barns.

I had a stroke October 26, 1993.

The so-called “Genesee Region” is all the counties in the area of western N.Y. that the Genesee River flows through. (The Genesee River flows north from Pennsylvania into Lake Ontario, also through Rochester.) —The only county in the Genesee Region that wouldn’t join the Rochester Genesee Regional Transportation Authority (“RGRTA”) is Ontario County (where we live). RGRTA also operates other small bus-services in other counties that surround the county Rochester is in (Monroe County); but its main function was to make the private bus-operator (who was losing money) in Rochester public.

In the final year of my employ at Regional Transit (i.e. before my stroke), I did a voluntary union newsletter called the “282 News.” It was great fun, since it would prompt weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth among Transit managers. Finally the union viewpoint was getting out to local politicians and media, instead of just the usual Transit self-congratulation. This included egregious safety issues, that before had been swept under the rug. It also included stories like what appears in this blog, so was interesting. —It was done with Microsoft Word®, was a lotta work, and ended with my stroke.

An “arbitration” is to bring a dispute before an impartial arbitrator, agreed to by both management and the Union, to decide the case.

“The Barns” are the location of Transit’s operations — also large sheds the buses can be kept inside.

Union meeting

Another regular monthly business meeting of my so-called “silly” bus-union at Regional Transit Service, comes-and-goes. (Thursday, April 16, 2009.)
While driving bus (for 16&1/2 years [1977-1993] I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service, the transit-bus operator in Rochester, NY) I belonged to Local 282, the Rochester division of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union (“What’s ‘ah-two’”).
I get noisily castigated by my anti-union siblings for attending these meetings, since as a retiree I can’t vote.
I attend these meetings to -1) support my union; and -2) remind my union officials that our pension hasn’t been increased in years.
It can be. It isn’t fixed. But increasing it (or just changing it) has to be agreed to by both the Union and Transit management.
The pension is well-funded enough to increase the payouts.
I usually am the only retiree in attendance; and attend every meeting, more than the average union-member.
I get loudly criticized for leaving a HUGE carbon footprint for future generations.
Although I suspect my Low-Emissions Vehicle spews less pollutants over a 45-mile trip than my loud-mouthed brother’s 454 Chevelle spews just starting up.
And then there is his blatting GeezerGlide, which has been reconfigured with complete disregard for pollution regulations.
He’s trying to maximize power output, and carbon-footprint be damned.
We know, because it stinks.
It ain’t the smell of unburned gasoline.
It ain’t running rich.
But it does stink!
And then there was that noisome blast down Route 65 from our house to 5&20: popping and missing and fuming loudly.
It ran better stock, before he started tuning with his ballpeen.
Chairing the meeting was Radical-Dude, now union vice-president Ray Dunbar (“done-BAR”).
Dunbar was my long-ago compatriot in my union newsletter.
It was his idea.
I ran with it, slamming together a union newsletter with Microsoft Word®.
Dunbar and I would “print” 400 copies on the Union’s copier, and then collate everything.
Then we’d pass it out at Transit at 4:30 in the morning.
It was a lotta work, but great fun.
Dunbar would truck it around to local politicos, who’d then call up Transit to ask what was going on.
Causing weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth among Transit managers.
Per them, everything was hunky-dory at Transit, but then there was our union newsletter, which said otherwise.
“Don’t read that stuff!” the Transit PR-guy shouted. “Just a buncha union activists!”
Most notable was our cartoon of the engine-cradle falling out of a bus in the Overhaul Shop.
Usually that kind of stuff got hidden.
We had immense powah!
The pen is always mightier than the sword.
We had Transit running amuck.
Management would get my newsletter to see what they had to quash.
Dunbar was chairing the meeting because our two union officials were at a conference in Albany.
The bus-drivers are always complaining the Union is selling them out.
I counted only four Regional Transit employees at the meeting I was at — five if you include me.
There were five Lift-Line employees. Lift-Line is our Rochester Dial-a-Bus service, and their employees belong to 282. Lift-Line is affiliated with Transit.
Dunbar said only 27 attended the meetings (there are three meetings); that’s 27 out of 600 or so members.
I attend these meetings partly for the verbal fireworks; the yelling and screaming and threats of fisticuffs.
Fireworks this time were by a Lift-Line employee I had never seen before in my entire life; about how the Union should get it’s act together, and not take any guff from management.
This is what usually happens, a never before seen union-member shows up and makes a fuss.
“Can’t we sue them clowns? Too many arbitrations.”
“We have to follow the Labor-Law,” Dunbar said. “We have to arbitrate before we can sue.”
“Our union officials are in cahoots with management. Our interests count for nothing,” he bellowed. “No one ever listens to us. Thousands should be marching in front of Transit.”
“Um, 27 out of 600,” I thought to myself. I usually just sit quietly with my hands folded, but almost noted that in this case.
My support of my union comes out of up-close-and-personal interface with management madness; observed doing my newsletter.
This is what usually happens.
Become involved in union activities, and ya become a supporter.
Even my friend the “sanctimonious zealot” has become part of it.
“Sanctimonious zealot” is a tub-thumping born-again Catholic Christian zealot — if that’s plausible.
But now as a Union Drivers’ Representative, he’s become a union activist.
I love hearing him rail about various management cardinal sins.

“What’s ‘ah-two?’” is something my mother asked seeing my ATU (Amalgamated Transit Union) button.

My siblings are all flagrantly anti-union.

My “loud-mouthed brother” is my all-knowing, blowhard brother-from-Boston, the macho ad-hominem king, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say. He has a classic 1971 454 cubic inch SS Chevelle, but claims I’m grossly polluting the atmosphere by driving to “silly” union-meetings. (”Silly” is his put-down.)

“GeezerGlide” is what I call all Harley Davidson ElectraGlide cruiser-bikes. My brother-from-Boston has a very laid back Harley Davidson cruiser-bike, and, like many Harley Davidson riders, is over 50 (51). So I call it his GeezerGlide. —It’s been heavily modified to increase power.

The “noisome blast down Route 65 from our house to 5&20” took place two summers ago. We live on State Route 65 in West Bloomfield (a small rural town in Western New York), and “5&20” is the main east-west road through our area; State Route 5 and U.S. Route 20, both on the same road. 5&20 is just south of where we live. —He was gonna take 5&20 back toward home. He had visited me with other siblings.

RE: “Before he started tuning with his ballpeen.....” —My macho blowhard brother is known to fix things with a liberally-applied ballpeen hammer.

RE: “My union newsletter.......” —During my final year at Transit I did a voluntary union newsletter called the “282-News.”

Bus-drivers reported for duty at “4:30 in the morning” to be assigned buses that pulled out at 4:45 or so.

“Local politicos” are local politicians.

“Immense powah” is immense power.

The “conference in Albany” was probably about some bus-transit funding issue, or safety issue.

RE: “The bus-drivers are always complaining the Union is selling them out......” —The bus-drivers are pretty much on-their-own all day, so always badmouth the union what little time they are together. They aren’t very union oriented, being on-their-own most times.

There are three regular monthly business meetings, on union-meeting day, interspersed throughout the day — one in the morning, one at 3 p.m., and one at night. I attend the one at night.

“Sanctimonious zealot” is my friend Dominick Zarcone (“zar-CONE”), a tub-thumping born-again Catholic Christian zealot. He began driving bus shortly after me, and is still driving. —He can be rather sanctimonious, but is otherwise okay; a good friend. (He reminds me of my father.) He was elected a Union Drivers’ Representative, acting as an attorney for bus-drivers in disputes with Transit management. He seems to accept my not being as holy as him.

Not much fireworks

Thursday night (March 19, 2009), was the regular monthly business-meeting of Local 282 of the Amalgamated Transit Union, my old bus-union at Regional Transit Service.
Local 282 is the Rochester division of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union. (“What’s ‘Ah-Two?’”)
Even though I’m a retiree, and can no longer vote on union business, I continue to attend these meetings, to -1) support my union (against a bunch of management jerks); and -2) the likelihood of verbal fireworks: threats, bombast, and fisticuffs.
I’m the only retiree that does; and, as I noted to a once-fellow employee, fireworks is blog material.
I was led to believe extreme fireworks would occur at this meeting, because a national representative of the Amalgamated Transit Union had come to our meeting from Washington D.C.
Apparently our local is not in compliance with some national bylaw requiring the office of President and Business-Agent be combined in one position.
In our local the President and Business-Agent are two separate positions.
This is apparently the way it was eons ago when our local was formed.
Many locals have since been founded across the nation, where the offices of local President and union Business-Agent were combined in one position.
Our local is the only one remaining nationwide with the two positions separated.
The other locals have only one full-time union official.
The Recording-Secretary/Treasurer is usually part-time.
In our local the Recording-Secretary is another official (I think voluntary; although he may be part-time), and the Business-Agent is also the Treasurer.
Our membership is always complaining about the cost of maintaining our local — e.g. two full-time officers as opposed to only one.
Our bus-driving membership isn’t very union oriented. It’s a reflection that bus-drivers are pretty much on their own.
Bus-driver contact with the Company is little more than -a) reporting for work, possibly for a bus assignment; and -b) occasional forays with Transit managers.
With what little contact they have with each other, the bus-drivers can swap stories about how awful the union is, and only ask for union representation when an encounter with management goes awry.
It’s an environment that fosters rumor and garbled facts. —Wild accusations totally off-the-mark.
Bus-drivers think they can fiddle management on their own, that management is reasonable enough to offset what little help they think the Union might afford.
But they aren’t. Transit management is capricious and arbitrary; a bunch of overpaid jerks on day-long donut-break.
Management knows the drivers bad-mouth the Union, so they do what they can to stoke this; mainly stonewall every union move.
We are forced to arbitrate everything; they refuse to be reasonable and negotiate.
Arbitrations cost money; a cost that gets passed onto union membership.
A Union lawyer takes part, and charges for his services. —The Union thereafter assesses the membership; although the Business-Agent tries to keep the assessment to about $10 per week.
18 proposed arbitrations were voted on at this meeting alone, and 250 more are awaiting action.
Which is outrageous; it was nothing like that when I was driving.
The local can hardly keep up with the lawyer fees; assessments in the future (not voted on) pay that.
Beyond that, a contract has been stonewalled for almost three years. (We are currently following the old contract; and when a new contract is signed, there will be a large back-pay to pay the wage-increase retroactively.)
The guy from D.C. notices this all: -A) that our contract negotiations are at impasse; and -B) 250 arbitrations are in the hopper.
Parties and similar union functions are no longer possible; all the money goes to lawyer fees.

One proposed arbitration voted on the other night was: a bus-driver had been “written-up” by a road-supervisor for some minor infraction, which he tried to protest.
Management’s position was that the “write-up” wasn’t discipline, yet the write-up would go in the driver’s file.
“If it’s not discipline,” the guy from D.C. butted in, “I say make them eat that; that that write-up can’t be considered when considering discipline.”
“Not how it works,” said my old once-fellow employee, who’s still driving bus, and is a union-representative. “You have the right to protest a write-up, per clause in our contract.”
“All those write-ups get trotted out when they wanna discipline someone,” others said.
“If they wanna call it not discipline,” D.C.-guy said; “make them eat that.”
“Into the minutes,” my once-fellow employee said.
Around-and-around we went; yet the supposed fireworks over the number of full-time union positions never occurred.
D.C.-guy noted he heard indications he had come to put our current union-officials out of their jobs. —The usual kind of misinformed innuendo that goes on in the Drivers’ Room at Regional Transit. (Same thing I witnessed 15+ years ago.)
Bad-mouth the Union at any cost.

Yet -a) 250+ arbitrations, and -b) no contract after three years, and no wonder the drivers are like they are.
“Bridges have been burned. Seems the Union hates Transit, and Transit management hates the Union.
Years ago, when Garrity was head-honcho, his door was always open.
Now the current head-honcho’s door is closed.”
“He won’t even attend contract negotiations,” the Business-Agent added. “More interested in getting his pimply-puss on the local media!”
“If contract negotiations are at impasse,” D.C.-guy added; “ya don’t consider a final offer.
Ya make them go to impasse.
Bridges have been burned. Usually management wants a contract as much as the Union. My mission is to repair the bridges.”
“What if they spit in your eye?” the Business-Agent asked.
“No one spits in my eye,” said D.C.-guy. “Time for the olive-branch. No other locals are in this predicament.”
The old waazoo; olive-branch time. I have the feeling D.C.-guy has no idea how wacko Transit is. He’ll get smacked with that olive-branch.
“Gotta get off the dime,” he says.
“Sure,” Transit will say. “10¢, please!”
It’s gotten to the point the only thing that will work is political pressure; settle/negotiate or no funding. Time to end the donut-break.

For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (“the Company”), the transit-bus operator in Rochester, NY. My stroke October 26, 1993 ended that. While there I belonged to the local division (“Local 282”) of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union. Our local holds a regular business meeting the third Thursday of each month.

“What’s ‘ah-two?’” is something my mother asked seeing my ATU (Amalgamated Transit Union) button.

RE: “We are forced to arbitrate everything......” —A dispute is brought before an impartial arbitrator (agreed on by both parties), presented, and then the arbitrator decides the outcome. (The arbitrator is not a union employee, nor Transit.)

Union employees work for “the Company” per “contract.” It sets wages, work-rules, etc.

RE: “‘Written-up’ by a road-supervisor.......” A “road-supervisor” was a non-revenue employee for -a) managing the bus-drivers on the road; and -b) intervening in customer disputes. Managing the bus-drivers included “writing them up” for rule-infractions.

“Discipline” was to render time off without pay, or similar — with a written letter of discipline in the employee’s file.

The “Drivers’ Room” at Regional Transit is the room where bus-drivers assemble to report for work, or be called for work.

Back when I was driving bus, the head-honcho at Regional Transit was Jack “Garrity.” (That was years ago. Since then Garrity retired, and was replaced by another, who has since retired, and was replaced by another.)

RE: “Time to end the donut-break........” —My wife tried to call Human Resources at Regional Transit, left a message, and no one ever called back. This was done numerous times. “Best time to call that Christy-lady is 8 a.m.,” our union-prez said. It worked; we called her at 8 a.m. and got her. “Must be after 8:30 she’s on donut-break for the rest of the day,” I observed.

No Fireworks

No bellowing or screaming or threats of fisticuffs.
“I pay my union dues like everyone else here, so I’m gonna tell ya what I think!
You told us we had a winner last contract — that we would win an interest-arbitration. And look what happened.......
We got sold down the river!”
Another regular monthly business meeting of Local 282 of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union (“What’s ‘Ah-two?’”), my old union at Regional Transit Service, where I drove transit-bus 16&1/2 years, came and went.
I’m told the fireworks will be next meeting, when someone from the national office comes to tell us our local is not complying with a national bylaw change made years ago.
The bylaw states that locals are to have only one paid full-time officer, a combined Business-Agent/President.
We have two, and have since I started in 1977; a President and a Business-Agent.
Our current Business-Agent has been that for years; since well before my stroke.
The current Prez was elected President when a previous union-prez died.
The two union officials were at loggerheads at first.
The Business-Agent is an activist; the union-prez more go-with-the-flow.
Both are older than me, so if the two positions get collapsed into one, they’ll probably retire.
Or else the current Business-Agent may run for the office — he’s already defacto prez anyway.
Another guy, who I call the Catholic-Zealot, may also run for such an office.
He’s currently a Union-Representative, and acts as an attorney in disputes with Transit management.
He’s come a long way since the hoary days of my Union newsletter, when he was kind of a jerk.
I remember a proposed arbitration about the Company not following procedure concerning a bus-driver with a drug charge.
My friend got up and said the guy should repent.
“WHOA-WHOA-WHOA! Hold it, Dominick. The point of this arbitration is not sin; it’s the Company not following procedure.”
A similar arbitration was under consideration last night — not as serious as a drug charge. But the Company was not following procedure.
Here’s Dominick defending the arbitration, not out of forgiving a so-called sinner, but because the Company wasn’t following procedure.
Catholic-zealot goes into a zealous rage when the Company treats us as idiots.
Well, I like that.
We need a leader that collects his thoughts and gets royally incensed.
But to my mind, we also need a leader who’s media-savvy — plays the media like a violin.
Robert Flavin (“FLAY-vin”), the longtime head of the local Communications Workers of America union (the telephone workers), was always a good media interview about a union issue.
But Flavin died.
The good interview became Adam Urbanski (“er-BAN-skee”), the head of the local teachers’ union.
But he’s more education issues.
Our current union officials aren’t interested in media-play.
My hope is for a union official interested in media-play.
I’m told the union membership is for only one union official; yet the union’s Executive-Board is against.
Fireworks, everyone.
Grist for the mill — a story for sure.

Our dog stalks a squirrel at Baker Park in Canandaigua. (Photo by the so-called “old guy” with the dreaded and utterly reprehensible Nikon D100.)

Since the union-meeting was so dead last night, I guess I hafta turn to something else: mainly the insanity of trying to fly nine dog pictures on our famblee-site; a response to the single pik I flew of our dog looking out the bedroom-window, titled “Not Enough Dogs.”
My post started with “Hold your horses, Elz.” My sister in south Floridy (“Elz”) had already commented on the single “Not Enough Dogs” pik before I got to fly the others.
I post a slew of pictures probably the same way all my siblings do — at least everyone but the all-knowing supposedly ‘pyooter-savvy Bluster-King; I’ve yet to see him post any pictures.
I post a period, edit, and then “add files.” Files uploaded, I “insert file(s) into HTML.”
Okay, I did that, like I always do, and bold the “Hold your horses, Elz.”
View post, and all it is is the jpeg picture titles in bold, and “Hold your horses, Elz.”
Okay, I surmise; something is wrong with the HTML. But it’s 6:15, and I have to begin eating supper so I can start in at 7 for this union meeting.
“Why is it everything screws up when you’re pressed for time?” Linda asks.
Delete “Hold your horses, Elz” and fly only the lead pik until I can return from the union-meeting.
Back home about 10:20 and start from scratch.
Upload pictures again, and “insert file(s) in HTML.”
View post; I guess they’re all there everyone.
As always; “why did it work this time?” Same HTML (far as I know).

For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service, the transit-bus operator in Rochester, NY. While there I belonged to the local division (“Local 282”) of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union. Our local holds a regular business meeting the third Thursday of each month.

“What’s ‘ah-two?’” is something my mother asked seeing my ATU (Amalgamated Transit Union) button.

“Catholic-Zealot” is my friend Dominick Zarcone (“zar-CONE”) a fellow bus-driver hired shortly after me. I call him “Catholic-Zealot” because he’s a tub-thumping born-again Christian, but also Catholic (what he was raised as).

“The Company” is Regional Transit Service.

During my final year at Transit I did a voluntary union newsletter called the “282-News” that caused weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth among Transit management. It was great fun; and I did it with Microsoft Word — although it required a lot of time.

“Communications Workers of America” union in Rochester, NY.

Our current dog is “Scarlett;” a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s three-plus, and is our sixth Irish-Setter.

RE: “‘Old guy’ with the dreaded and utterly reprehensible Nikon D100.......” —My macho, blowhard brother-from-Boston, who is 13 years younger than me, calls me “the old guy” as a put-down (I also am the oldest). I also am loudly excoriated by all my siblings for preferring a professional camera (like the Nikon D100) instead of a point-and-shoot. This is because I long ago sold photos to nationally published magazines.

The “famblee-site” is our family’s web-site at MyFamily.com.

Our family’s web-site is overwhelmed with cat pictures, so I flew a bunch of dog pictures titled “Not Enough Dogs.”

“Response” is computer-response; a text and/or picture response to an original post on our family’s web-site. I can post a single picture as the original post, and add a bunch more as a response. If each picture was an original post, it’d be nine separate posts. (I’ve only put one picture on this blog.)

“Elz” is my sister Betty (Elizabeth). She’s second after me, 63 (I’m the oldest at 65). She lives in Fort Lauderdale, FL, and is married to a guy named Tom.

The “Bluster-King” is my all-knowing, blowhard brother-from-Boston, the macho ad-hominem king, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say. He claims to be an authority on computers, and that I am completely clueless compared to him.

“A period” is “.” —A handle to edit; edit to add pictures.

“Linda” is my wife of 41+ years.

No Union-Meeting

Yet another union-meeting date drifts into the filmy past.
But no union meeting.

—1) This was apparently because of a day-long election yesterday (Thursday, January 15, 2009) for an RTS Drivers’-Rep, now that previous Drivers’-Rep Craig Fien (“FEEN”) was fired for insubordination — whatever.
Fien had to resign his Drivers’-Rep position because he was running out of money without an income, and had to switch to a job driving truck.
Probably pays about the same, and at least there the cargo isn’t threatening to shoot ya.
Same highway madness, but there the cargo is more compliant.
Transit management, in its infinite wisdom, decided Craig was insubordinate, or ornery enough and thorn-in-the-side enough to be fired.
Yet despite his departure, the union is arbitrating his case.
It’s the old waazoo: management’s inclination to in every case blame its bus-drivers.
So Craig stands up to some passenger who was giving him the business, and wants her removed from his bus. He requests police assistance, feeling physically threatened, and as usual Transit -a) wants to shove the whole matter aside, and use only its own Road-Supervisors to handle the altercation; and -b) wants Craig to just buckle and take the miscreant home.
Craig’s refusal to do so is called “insubordination,” and he gets fired.
Score one for management; they found an excuse to remove a thorn-in-their-side. He was an ornery Drivers’-Rep, and also excellent. Held Management’s feet to the fire.
So an election was held to elect a new Drivers’-Rep to replace Craig.
As a Retiree, I am not privy to stuff like this.
I don’t frequent our old Drivers’ Room every day or see the union’s tiny bulletin board therein.
Meetings have been canceled before, and I knew nothing of it. Just drove up and found a notice on the hall door.
Driving there takes almost an hour.

—2) The drive up
A few still have there Christmas lights lit.
No more glittering strip like last drive up where an entire street was lit up like Broadway.
But I passed a few places that still had their Christmas lights lit. Colored wreaths and Christmas trees.
Years ago our Webster Post-paper ran a photograph of town workers finally removing the Christmas lights from light-poles in June.
My brother Bill weighed in.
“What are they doing that for?” he asked. “They’ll just have to put them back up in six months.”
Look carefully and you can find people that never take their Christmas lights down, but they usually don’t light ‘em.
But there is a house along 5&20 in Bloomfield that keeps electric Christmas candles lit all year in its windows.

For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (“RTS;” “Transit”), the transit-bus operator in Rochester, NY. My stroke October 26, 1993 (inducing disability-retirement) ended that. While there I belonged to the local division (“Local 282”) of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union. Our local holds a regular business meeting the third Thursday of each month, but last night there was no meeting. —Our union had two elected “Drivers’-Reps” (representative); idea being to implement our contract and advocate for a bus-driver called before management.

RE: “The union is arbitrating......” —What our union is mainly doing nowadays is arbitrating disputes, although Transit management can also initiate an arbitration. The facts of a case are presented to an impartial and noninvolved arbitrator, and he decides the case. The parties involved (Transit and the Union) are to accept his decision; although Transit has been known to refuse, and had to be dragged to court. (They once even refused a court decision.)

Transit used “Road-Supervisors” to check on bus-drivers, and intervene when needed. They were kinda like “transit-police;” but not actually police.

The bus-drivers were assigned work in a “Drivers’ Room;” which had a small union bulletin board off a hallway. As a Retiree, I no longer hit the Drivers’ Room.

Our union meets in an off-property “hall.”

The “Webster Post-paper” was one of the nine Post Publications suburban weekly newspapers purchased by the Messenger Newspaper when the head-honcho of Post Publications retired and sold. It served the small town of Webster, a suburb east of Rochester. (The Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper is from where I retired over three years ago. Best job I ever had.)

“My brother Bill” is my younger brother in northern Delaware.

“5&20” is the main east-west road through our area; State Route 5 and U.S. Route 20, both on the same road. 5&20 is just south of where we live, which is in the rural Town of West Bloomfield, NY. Adjacent is the Town of East Bloomfield, and the small village of “Bloomfield” is within it. I traverse “5&20” to get to nearby Canandaigua.

No fireworks this time

Yet another regular monthly business meeting of Local 282 of the Amalgamated Transit Union (“What’s Ah-Two?”) drifts into the filmy past.

—1) No fireworks this time.
Although it could have degraded to that.
Seems like just about every union meeting I’ve attended migrated to screaming and yelling and loud accusations of sell-out.
Only about eight members were in attendance, but enough, together with the morning and afternoon meetings, to constitute a quorum I guess.
One of the 89 bazilyun proposed arbitrations to be voted on was how the bus-runs were laid out.
Apparently the Company is no longer following a judge’s decision, that school-trippers are actually line-service, and go out even if there’s no school.
I used to do that.
If school was off, the run was canceled.
I still got a full day’s pay, but worked only four-five hours.
If my morning half was all school, I’d get the morning off.
But a yellow-bus company challenged Transit’s doing the schoolwork, and cost came into play.
Transit doing the schoolwork cost way less than the yellow-bus company, so a court sided with Transit saying the schoolwork was actually line-service.
But the stipulation was the work had to run every day, school or not.
Transit did that for a few months, then flip-flopped the judge’s decision and stopped doing the work if school was closed. (Probably ran outta buses.)
At issue were the number of runs over 9&1/2 hours; Transit not counting them, because they were supposedly NOT regular runs (i.e. they were “schoolwork”), yet on the other hand for the judge they claimed they were regular runs (i.e. not schoolwork, but line-service).
“This effects me personally,” a member said. “I pick that work because I get time off if school is closed.”
“Well, there are 157 school-trip runs,” the dais said. “Them 156 other drivers should be here too.”
“I’ll tell ya why them 156 other drivers ain’t here,” someone bellowed.
“They’ve decided this union is a joke; that ya’ve all sold out, and are in bed with management.”
“Uh-ohhhhhh.......” I thought. “FIREWORKS ALERT!”
But nothing came of it.
Everyone on the dais was preparing for a blast.
But we adjourned at 9:30 p.m.; a record.
It probably woulda made me address the crowd.
I usually just sit quietly, but got involved in one of these noisy fracases a while ago.
“This is the same yelling I heard at these meetings 20 years ago; that our union was a sell-out.
We ain’t actually a union, except the mechanics, bless ‘em.
No one participates.
Will I see you at the next meeting? I’ll be here.”

—2) It looks like the guy way up the road by the Thruway along my route into Rochester for the union-meeting has finally given up on decorating his 100-foot Blue Spruce tree.
It’s dark when I start out for the December meeting, and every year that guy had colored lights on that tree, all the way to the top.
I wondered how he did it.
That thing is so tall, ya’d need a cherry-picker; although I suppose ya could do it with a humungous extension-ladder.
Yet every year it was decorated, except last night.
Richards used to do that next to us in Erlton.
Their Blue Spruce in their front yard was about 30-40 feet high, and Ed Richards would hoist up his extension-ladder, and string lights all around it.
Erlton was good for outdoor Christmas decorations.
The family on the southwest corner of Jefferson and Cooper went completely bonkers.
They had lights along every possible edge, and even far away atop their fence.
Ya could tell when they turned ‘em all on; streetlights and house-lights inside dimmed. —The refrigerator would drop its hum.
The Hall family on Wesley Ave. had a notable display. Mrs. Hall was my Cub-Scout den-mother; and Mr. Hall was an electrician.
Mr. Hall had rigged up a washing-machine timer in his basement to energize various Christmas-light circuits he had on his house.
First red; then green; then blue; then white; then altogether.
His house was like watching a theater marquis.

—3) Part of the reason I attended this meeting, was because I turn 65 on February 5, 2009; Medicare age.
I managed to buttonhole the union-prez after the meeting, one Joe Carey (“Carry”); who’s already Medicare age.
Every attempt at my speaking is always a mess; halting silences while I try to put words together, and/or decide what to say.
The old speech-center doesn’t work very well, and hasn’t since the stroke; but since it works fairly well, people assume I’m normal.
And get frustrated when it doesn’t, or think I’m angry because I can’t get words out.
Whether my concerns were answered is questionable, since I probably didn’t get the right questions out.
“My wife turns 65 on January 2, 2009, and got a communication from Transit last October. —Yet I haven’t got anything yet.”
“You don’t need to worry,” Joe said. “You’re already on Medicare.”
“No I’m not,” I said.
“But you’re disabled. You’re on Social Security,” Joe said.
“Social Security, but not Social Security Disability.”
“But once you’re on SSDI you’re on it for life.”
“Negatory,” I said. “That ended about seven years ago so I could go full-time at the Messenger.”
The import, I guess, was that Transit already has what’s needed for me to Medicare Cut-Out; but needed input from Linda.
“On it for life?” I thought. Hmmmmmmnnnnnnnn. “Are ya saying I shouldna discontinued SSDI?”
Around-and-around we went; my halting silences trying to decide what to say.
“If you’re not on Medicare, what health insurance are ya on?” Joe asked.
“Preferred Care,” I said. “We had to fill out a change-form; also when I went off SSDI.”
“Your wife was never on Medicare, which was why Transit needed a change-form.”
So it sounds like we have to drive all the way to Transit to -a) make sure they don’t have me as disabled; and -b) if I need to do a change-form. A “grandstand,” as it were; since they won’t respond to our phone inquiries — probably disturbing their coffee-breaks.
“Yeah, they never call back,” Joe said. “It’s pulling teeth!”
“Yeah, but ya can write,” a compatriot said.
“But that’s different,” I said. “Writing ain’t speaking. The writing works fine, but the speaking doesn’t. I have to let my wife speak for me.”
Driving home afterward I realized my driving works fine too; but not the speaking. —It’s frustrating that everyone thinks I can speak fine when I can’t.

(CUE BLUSTER-KING; and the usual anti-union tirades.)

“Local 282” is the Rochester local of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union. (“What’s ‘ah-two?’” is something my mother asked seeing my ATU [Amalgamated Transit Union] button.) —For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (“Transit”), the transit-bus operator in Rochester, NY. My stroke October 26, 1993 ended that. (282 was our union.)

RE: “Adjourned at 9:30 p.m.; a record........” —The regular monthly business meetings of Local 282 usually last until 10 p.m., or later.

The “Thruway” is the New York State Thruway (Interstate-90), which I cross under to get to Rochester.

“Erlton” (‘EARL-tin’) is the small suburb of Philadelphia in south Jersey where I lived until I was 13. Erlton was founded in the ‘30s, named after its developer, whose name was Earl. The “Richards” were our immediate neighbors to the southeast.

“Jefferson” Ave. was the main east-west drag through Erlton we lived on. Both Wesley and Cooper Aves. crossed it.

RE: “Medicare Cut-Out......” —Medicare is primary, and pays its part first. I also have supplementary healthcare insurance from Transit that pays the shortage.

“Linda” is my wife of 40+ years.

The “Bluster-King” is my all-knowing, blowhard brother-from-Boston, the macho ad-hominem king, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say. —My siblings are all flagrantly anti-union.

Robach

Another regular monthly business-meeting of Local 282 of the Amalgamated Transit Union (“What’s ‘Ah-Two?’”) bit the dust the other night (Thursday, October 16, 2008).
The excitement at this meeting (poorly attended of course) was the appearance of N.Y. State Senator Joe Robach (“ROW-bach” as in “Johann Sebastian Bach”).
Union Business-Agent Frank Falzone (“Foul-ZONE”) was quietly reading his report, when Robach strode in.
“I hereby suspend the regular order of business. Hi, Joe! How ya doin’?” Frank said.
“I really don’t know what to say,” Robach said, as he turned and faced us.
“I’ve lived in Rochester all my life, and rode bus when I was younger.”
“We lived at the end of Lake Ave., and I rode bus to work.”
“I’d fall asleep on the bus, and the driver got up to wake me.”
“‘Wake up, Joe. This is where ya get off!’”
I used to do that. When I had the morning Park-and-Ride from Fairport, I’d look for Blondie in East Rochester at Locust St.
If she wasn’t there, I’d glance down Locust to see if she was coming. And if she was, I stopped.
Similarly, I drove the a.m. Joseph Ave. trip to Edison Tech.
It was the slums; awful. Started out the school-year with a full bus (48), and ended up with 15.
“What happened to everyone else?” I’d ask. “Prison?” (Some had been shot dead.)
Some mornings I’d see kids running for the bus-stop.
I used to get excoriated by management; “If these kids can’t get to the bus-stop on time, pass ‘em up!
Baloney! These kids wanted to get to school. I ain’t lettin’ ‘em down.
One time early in the school-year I’m bombin’ down Joseph, and “Hey; those kids want the bus!”
“So wha’d ya pick up them for?” management asked, “A road-supervisor went by and there’s no stop.”
“Yeah, but there’s supposed to be,” I said.
“It’s not their fault the bus-company can’t get its act together.”
“They gave me sheets of paper assigning them to that stop.”
(That stop remained signless for almost four months.)
“I’m on vacation next week,” I’d tell everyone.
“Ya better allow for that, and a jerk driver.”
“I know yaz all, and where to find yaz; but my replacement won’t.”
“Management thinks we’re stupid, and completely disrespects us.”
“Uh-oh........” I think to myself. “Ya walked into it, Joe. Prepare to endure a loud litany of mistreatment.”
“So how long have you guys been without a contract?” Joe asked.
“21 months,” Frank said.
Joe is Republican, but “for cryin’ out loud! Don’t these guys have any respect for those doing the work?”
Joe is Republican, but very feet-on-the-ground.
In fact, an old Democrat turned Republican, since he thought the Republican Party was ascending.
The Democrat challenging him is an old pol supported by fatcat corporations. He once lawyered a corporation dragged into court for shipping jobs overseas.
He has dropped to mud-slinging, the only way to challenge a feet-on-the-ground politician.
And he’s being funded by those same fatcat corporations. They’re noisily claiming he doesn’t reflect the values of his district.
Well, yes; not exactly. He is REPUBLICAN after all.
But not the image of Limbaugh.
“So what you’re telling me is I shouldn’t attend this press-briefing celebrating the fare reduction,” Joe said.
“The ones who benefit from that are the suburbanites,” Frank interjected. “The ones that really need the bus don’t. A monthly city bus-pass remains the same.”
“The other guy that benefits is the head honcho, with all the favorable press,” someone added.
“He’s using taxpayer money to reward himself and his suburban friends,” Frank said.
“He also awards bonuses to management employees,” a mechanic added. “You may have heard of the TOPS program. A management surveyor gets on at the barns, rides downtown, and then back to the barns. The surveyor then turns in a report on how well the system is managed, but of course he does; it’s management praising management.”
“And that’s only one tiny part of the system,” someone said.
“Maybe ya should go to this shindig and ask how he lowered fares yet not give us a contract.”
“If you actually see head honcho, you’re doing better than me,” Frank added.
“He never shows at negotiations; sends only his minions.”
“Who was that guy with the flattop?” Joe asked.
“That’s Jack Garrity; we always hammered out directly with him,” Frank said.
“He was once a bus-driver.”
(Garrity was head honcho when I was there.)
“Current head honcho won’t even ride a bus at all.”
“Neither would Jack Garrity,” I thought to myself. “Associate with the riffraff? You have to be kidding!”
“The reason we’ve been at impasse so long, is we never can arrange to meet. They always stonewall.”
“I also can’t believe you guys can’t ask for police when threatened on a bus,” Robach said.
“Nope; call the radio first,” a driver said.
“Then they send out a road-supervisor to blame the bus-driver and approve the miscreant.”
“I got fired for wanting to throw a violent passenger off the bus!” said Craig Fien (“FEEN”), a union-rep.
“27 years; and they called it insubordination,” Frank said. “They just wanted to fire him.”
“This used to be a good job, but not any more,” someone added. “Three years in Iraq honorably serving my country, and I come back to this. The Army was a picnic!”

Local 282 of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union is my old bus-union at Regional Transit Service, the transit-bus operator in Rochester, NY, where I drove transit-bus for 16&1/2 years (1977-1993). My stroke October 26, 1993 ended that.

“What’s ‘ah-two?’” is something my mother asked seeing my ATU (Amalgamated Transit Union) button.

“Frank Falzone” is one of two paid, full-time union officials. They work for Local 282; not Transit.

A “Park-and-Ride” was a commuter bus-service to the suburbs.

“Fairport” and “East Rochester” are both suburbs east of Rochester; first East Rochester and then Fairport.

“Blondie” was a passenger in East Rochester. I called her that because she had long blonde hair.

“Edison Tech” is a technical high-school west of Rochester. —It was originally in the city, but a new school was built on an old landfill in the western Rochester outskirts.

RE: “So what you’re telling me is I shouldn’t attend this press-briefing celebrating the fare reduction.......” —Regional Transit will reduce bus-fare; the only transit operation nationwide to do so.

Buses are stored overnight inside in “the barns,” on the east side of Rochester.

A “union-rep” is a union representative, there to intercede with management in favor of union-members.

E-mail to Zarcone

(“Zar-CONE”)

Too bad you left before the meeting ended.
You missed all the fireworks I caused when I finally got fed up with all the noisy bickering, and bellyaching, and bellering, and said “yeah, but will I see you at the next meeting?”
“Probably not,” I added. “I keep coming to these things, and it’s only 10-15 people (out of 500+), usually different each time.”
“Every time I come I expect I might have to drive all-the-way back home, because we didn’t get a quorum.”
“Wait a minute; who are you?” bellowed the chief bellyacher.
“He’s a retiree,” interjected Frank; “which means he can’t even vote. But he keeps coming to these meetings because he knows the only way he can support his union is to show up at these meetings — and he’s driving all the way from West Bloomfield; about an hour. Believe you-me, he’s at every meeting. He was at the last one, and will be at the next one.”
The meeting adjourned shortly after that — it was 11 p.m. It had already been extended once.
Frank hadn’t completed his Business Agent’s report — and Dunbar was mad as a hornet, and was ready to walk out. Blocchi almost did.
I got accosted again as I crossed the darkened parking-lot.
Chief bellyacher introduced himself, and started yammering at me.
I interrupted.
“My career driving bus ended suddenly 15 years ago, but before my retirement I was deeply involved in this union with a voluntary union newsletter.
Dunbar cut me off, and thankfully. “We can’t leave until you guys clear out.”
Dunbar and Frank were pulling out as I started to leave.
“Make sure Dunbar knows I appreciated him giving me an out,” I said to Frank.

It’s true; the Union is a joke.
But that’s because of givens I observed long ago doing my newsletter.
—1) The bus-drivers are pretty much on-their-own anyway.
They report to a Drivers Room, and after that are on-their-own until they drive home.
And that Drivers Room was an inspired idea (probably a continuation) by Jack Garrity to control the Union.
I thought a Hall off the property might make more sense, but that would have been a HUGE expense, and drivers were already complaining loudly about piddling union assessments.
—2) So in effect, only the mechanics, bless ‘em, were a union.
They were on the property all day, and not in some room monitored by management.
Their concerns could spread like wildfire among themselves.
My newsletter was a feeble attempt to improve communication among drivers.
But it didn’t work.
All it did was increase political pressure on Garrity and his lackeys, and that was because Dunbar was circulating it to area politicos.
But we sure had fun.
We had Transit management on the run.
“Too bad I’m 64,” I said. “I no longer have the stamina to stay up until 3 a.m. finishing that newsletter.”

“Zarcone” is Dominick Zarcone, a union-representative hired shortly after me; and a friend of mine. We both drove bus at Regional Transit Service, the transit-bus operator in Rochester, NY, me for 16&1/2 years (1977-1993). My stroke October 26, 1993 ended that. (Zarcone is still driving.)

“Frank” is Frank Falzone (“Fowl-ZONE”), the union Business-Agent; one of only two full-time union officials. Local 282 is the Rochester local of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union — my old bus-union.

“Blocchi” (“Block-EEE”) is John Blocchi, the union recording-secretary; a bus-mechanic at Transit.

“Dunbar” (“Done-BAR”) is Ray Dunbar, currently the union vice-prez, and was chairing the meeting. 15 years ago, together we initiated the union newsletter; me as editor, writer and producer, and he helped collate and distribute. (It was largely his idea.)

“Jack Garrity” was the head-honcho at Regional Transit Service during my entire tenure. Despite all the trouble my newsletter caused, I wasn’t fired. I was perceived as one of their best employees. —The current head-honcho at Transit is much worse. I’d be fired as a union-agitator.

Blowing smoke........

Yet another regular monthly meeting of Local 282 of the Amalgamated Transit Union, my union at Regional Transit Service, my former employer, drifts into the filmy past.
I suppose I should make these meetings a blog category, and I probably will, since I write these things up every month.
And this is despite the union going on summer vacation of sorts; no monthly meetings until September.
My attending these shindigs is sort of a joke.
As a retiree, I am no longer an active employee at Transit, so therefore I can’t vote on union business.
My attendance at these meetings is little more than support for my union — and a subtle reminder to union-officials the pension amount I receive hasn’t changed in years; and that benefit could be increased.
As union meetings go, it was boring; no yelling or screaming histrionics.
But two things stand out:
—1) was the arbitration proposed to reinstate an employee who was fired for allegedly misfiling a claim for workers compensation.
The worker had an accident with her car while off-duty, called in sick (injured), yet was called in by Transit the next day “to file papers.”
The paper she was given wasn’t a workers comp application form. It was the form to report a bus accident; which this wasn’t.
So the form requested the number of the bus she was driving; so despite being on pain-medication (she had tried to put off her coming), she wrote the number of the bus she had earlier driven that day.
So now, despite her accident being off-duty with her car, Transit is claiming she was trying to file for workers compensation instead of disability.
“What can I say?” the Business-Agent said.
“Human-Relations screwed up. They gave her the wrong form, and the one they gave her wasn’t even a workers comp application.”
“Infinite wisdom. Fire the involved hourly when they should be firing their HR person.”
“Ya gotta watch these HR idiots like hawks,” the Recording-Secretary said. “They throw a COBRA-application at you, in which case you’re resigning.”
Looks like a slam-dunk to me.
Her Ford-Escort, written up in the Police-report, ain’t a Transit-bus; and 6:20 p.m. is off-duty.
The proposed arbitration passed.
—2) was a motion made in an earlier meeting to copy and circulate the Union-proposal tendered to Transit management.
“Seems like this is gonna be a lot of paper,” brother Stitt observed.
“Yep,” said the Business-Agent. “Our proposals are 25 pages or more.”
“More than that,” said the Recording-Secretary.
“Maybe we could post that proposal in the union bulletin-board at Transit,” said Stitt.
“That bulletin-board is nowhere near big enough,” said the Business-Agent. “We’d need a whole wall.”
“How about a union web-site?” someone asked. “Interested people could download the proposal and print it. That would save a lot of union paper.”
“I could do that,” said brother Maurice Hebert, a person I respect highly.
“When I was doing that union newsletter,” I said; “I’d be up to 3 a.m. getting it ready. Every ‘pyooter function takes way longer than expected.”
Hebert turned toward me and said “well, I already do a web-site.”
Okay, I’m sure brother Hebert is more ‘pyooter-literate than me, and he ain’t parrying a stroke, but “Repeating: every ‘pyooter function I’ve ever done takes way longer than expected.”
I also remember all the hairballs with the Messenger web-site, and how flying it every day was usually a struggle — try to get by despite the hairballs. Do it over, because something wasn’t working. (When I got home, I’d see if it actually published; and if it didn’t, I’d fix things at home so it did. —How many times did I call Ann Arbor from home?)
“And not only that,” someone observed; “a web-site needs to be maintained. Most of the web-sites I access are way outta date.”
“Can’t we affiliate our web-site with the RGRTA web-site?” someone innocently asked.
A torrent of guffawing broke out. “Sure,” the Business-Agent said; “and they rewrite our content to agree with their agenda.”
I have the feeling nothing will happen here. Maybe brother Hebert can pull it off; actually do a union web-site — but I remember what a time gobbler my union newsletter was.
And like me with my newsletter, a union web-site would be voluntary. Brother Hebert is still driving bus; plus I think a union web-site would gobble twice the time of my newsletter.
Unfortunately, a web-site has to be a separately paid function.
“Who needs a web-site to circulate a union-proposal?” said the Recording-Secretary. “Maybe yaz could all gimme your e-mail addresses.”
“In which case ya get 500+ e-mail addresses,” the Business-Agent said. (Sure; construct an e-mail list of 500+ addresses. That’s at least three hours — maybe four or five.)

For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service, the transit-bus operator in Rochester, N.Y. My stroke October 26, 1993 ended that.

RE: “The Business-Agent........” —Our union has two full-time paid officials, who work at the Union instead of Transit, the union-president, and a “Business-Agent.”

“COBRA” (Consolidated Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Act) is self-paid continuation of health coverage, should you discontinue employment with (or be fired by) an employer with health-coverage.

The “Recording-Secretary” is another union official; but he still works at Transit. His main function is to keep meeting minutes, and process text.

RE: “Earlier meeting......” —Our union holds at least two regular monthly meetings on meeting-day; for employees that are on-duty during a meeting.

RE: “Union-proposal tendered to Transit management......” —Our union is currently in negotiations for a new contract with Transit.

“Brother Stitt” is Terry Stitt, a bus-driver, and top of the seniority list for bus-drivers.

My “union newsletter,” the 282-News, was a voluntary union newsletter I did during my final year at Transit. I did it with Word on a computer.

The “Messenger,” my post-stroke employment, is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired over two years ago. Best job I ever had. —During my final months there I did the Messenger web-site.

The Messenger web-site was done out of a web-service based in “Ann Arbor,” Michigan.

“RGRTA” (Rochester Genesee Regional Transportation Authority) is a publicly-funded state authority to run transit service in the Rochester area; primary of which is Regional Transit Service.