I signed off my two-week time sheet at the end of the day today: 95 hours. That’s 15 hours of overtime in seven-and-a-half days. (The overtime announcement came last Wednesday morning.) I was so groggy this morning, even though I went to bed at 9:30 last night, that I bumped into things as I made my way around the apartment.
An email this afternoon announced that overtime will continue next week. It may be tough to maintain the positive tone of this blog during the upcoming days.
When I used to drive buses, many years ago, I would often be asked for the locations of various businesses. (I was once asked what time The Bon Marche closes.) It makes sense. If you’re unfamiliar with the city, ask someone who drives through it all day.
Except that it doesn’t actually make sense. A bus driver knows the route, knows street names. knows where to turn, and knows where to stops are. A bus driver is watching traffic all day, and pays little attention to what’s beyond the sidewalk – and has little reason to.
I faced a similar situation when I worked at the front desks of clinics at medical centers. People would approach me, asking where some other clinic is. It makes sense. If you’re lost in a medical center, ask someone who works there. Except that it doesn’t actually make sense. A person at a reception desk sits in one clinic all day, every day, and doesn’t travel to other clinics – and had little reason to.
I caught a RapidRide E bus on Third Avenue, on my way home, today. I took a seat near the center doors. I couple approached the bus and asked the driver how to get to (I didn’t hear the last part). I liked the driver’s answer.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know,” she said, “You might want to ask a bus rider. I stick to this one route and don’t get to see much of the city.”