U mad?

I’m listening to Electric Light Orchestra.   You see, it’s not that I like Electric Light Orchestra.  To be honest, I don’t know a goddamn thing about Electric Light Orchestra.   It’s just that at my job we run this commercial advertising some classic rock collection (40 dollars for 8 discs so it must be a great deal) all the damn time and they have this one song from the Electric Light Orchestra that catches my attention all morning and I’m finally getting around to investigating.  I don’t think I like them but I’m going to keep listening.  I don’t know what to make of myself right now.  Get off my case, aight?

Annnywaayy, back in the old toll collection days, jokers used to pull up to my little toll booth and  ask me “HEY DO YOU FEEL SAFE IN THERE??” I usually shrugged it off and tried not to think about the hundreds of opportunities that multiple tons of  steel could take my ass out with one false move on the part of a driver looking for that last penny.   Well, check this out. Luckily, the driver and collector made it out with relatively minor injuries.  I spent a ton of time at a barrier pretty similar to this one about an hour away from Buffalo and it’s incredible how dangerous a seemingly mundane job can get in just a few seconds.   In that second, the neon safety vest and the countless hours of sleeping through OSHA-mandated safety videos won’t do you any good.  That’s your ass.  (Aside- After working an overnight, I fell asleep during the safety videos one year at the annual all day party known as toll-training day.  Luckily, I fell asleep on the shoulder of a wonderful co-worker who decided not to wake me up. )

Ouch.

 

With all the distracted drivers I encountered, I’m sad to say that it’s surprising this doesn’t happen more.  In the end, I’m glad that I made it out alive and no one had to eulogize me and my unspectacular and disappointing career by saying, “Vincent died doing what he loved, collecting tolls, taking money directly from the  mouths of hardworking Western New Yorkers without so much as a smile.”  (It’s not that I’m always mad, I’m just self-conscious about my smile, I promise.)

It’s not like I’m that much safer in New York City.  In fact, I’m probably less so.  One crazed hobo on my 4:38 morning train into Manhattan and they’re talking about how “Vincent just loved sliding those breaks, hour upon hour of monotonous, mind-numbing simplicity.”  Or the uplifting message we received from HR today telling us that midtown has tall buildings and lots of snow and ice is falling off of them.  SO WATCH YOUR ASS KID.  Thanks guys, I’ll just walk down the sidewalk terrified and face up from now on.   I’m quickly learning the less you think about sometimes, the better off you’ll be, especially in a place like New York City.

Seriously though, there is a reason that I came here and I need some help.  I’ve been meaning to throw this out there for a while but I keep  putting it off.  For those of you that know me, what do I like?  What do I talk about?  Do I talk about anything?  What am I interested in?  Do I actually show an interest in anything?

I know these seem like very self-reflective questions that I should be able to answer myself but I’ve been finding them very problematic.  Outside of, and arguably even during work, I’ve been incredibly unfocused.  I’m not terribly interested in what I’m doing these days but in the past, I’ve always been open to learning and trying new things.  Recently though, it’s been like pulling teeth.  I’ve been attributing it to disinterest but is that all that’s really at play here?  Even during downtime hours, I have the hardest time doing anything constructive.  Even coming here to write about this disconnect has taken far too long.

Every time I run down my internal laundry list of ‘interests’ I usually respond to myself with a whole lot of ‘meh.’  It’s getting a whole lot of frustrating.

I need something to do.  Hell if I know what though.  And I’m starting to feel like time is slipping away.  You still feel young, but I don’t want to wake up one day looking back at things I didn’t do.  Problem is, I don’t know what these things are and I’m scared that by the time I figure out what they are, too much time will have passed.

So what’s my problem?  Just jump in and try something right?  Something is holding me back.  And I don’t like it.  I’ve always been proud of being an un-medicated American youth who sucks it up and pushes through the bullshit but this lack of focus and ambition is killing me.  Is there a drug for that?

Of course there is.

Doesn’t mean I want it though.

I think I like Electric Light Orchestra.  I sure hope they aren’t my gateway into classic rock.  I don’t want to like classic rock.  Please don’t make me like classic rock.

 

Checking In

Hey guys.

I’m not really sure what kind of crowd(and I’m using that term loosely) frequents this these days but I came across something that I think is worth reading.  Yes, it does come to us from New Jersey, but seeing as how they haven’t figured out how to transfer scent through the Internet I think we’re safe to read it.  (That’s my obligatory New Jersey smells joke)

Anyway, check this out.   Maybe I’ve just become an all things toll-related nerd, but I always think it’s interesting to read something that is neither from the outraged-public nor prepared official media statements of high ranking officials.   There are a lot of people stuck in the middle of these kinds of debates and I think it’s important for us to pull back and realize that these kinds of debates aren’t necessarily as clear cut as us vs. them.  As easy as that would be, the world rarely functions in such a simplistic way and our belief that it does often ruins the chance for any sustainable progress.

While the Turnpike Authority should be constantly scrutinized and held accountable because of its high profile place in the daily lives of many people traveling through New Jersey, the benefits of keeping it both independent of the state budget and away from privatization should also be taken into account.  While I didn’t work at an agency in New Jersey, I can sympathize with the misnomer that the public often makes about toll collection.   I couldn’t tell you how many times people dropped money into my hand and made some crack about me, the state, the governor, Obama, etc..

The bottom line?  The public has no freaking idea where their money is going.  Clearly we have a disconnect here.

Are the media relations people not doing their jobs effectively?  Are authority officials even doing all they can to run an efficient system? Is the public unwilling to do the leg-work and learn a little bit about the world they live in?  Do they have a right to be mad?

I dunno.  I get as frustrated as anyone else by agencies that can’t seem to get their act together.  At the same time, I have no sympathy for people who are mad and take it out on the first person they see.  But a common theme across any number of industries always seems to be that the voices of reason just trying to make a living get stuck taking the brunt of the abuse by authorities who only want to sustain their way of life and a public that wants somebody to piss on.

I hope you guys are doing well.  I’ve been getting up at 3:45 in the morning for the past month and all told, I get about two hours of light outside of work per day.

It’s alright though, I’ve been sleeping well.

 

Alright, here’s the dirty little secret…

Yo.  Haven’t been on in a while and I apologize for that.  Initially, you could attribute my absence to me being sad about my job and not particularly wanting to drag the supposed entertainment factor of this thing down with my general life malaise.  You could probably throw a little bit of laziness, a dash of ‘where did that witty comment I had earlier go?’ and a post-collegiate identity crisis (which is far from over.)

I’m not a toll collector anymore.   I haven’t been for a few months now.  Don’t worry, I didn’t finally lose my shit and throw my ever-growing stack of dollar coins at some jerk’s face.  I got a job.  Imagine that.  Called on a Friday, picked up my life, moved eight hours away and started on the following Monday.  Having spent a year out of college in this dead-end job, I felt that a lot my older co-workers had kind of given up on me.  They always were so encouraging when I was in school, and interested to hear my big plans about moving away and making it big.  And then nothing happened.  They were still just as accepting as always, but you could tell they were a little disappointed.  Another kid destined to end up just like them, wondering about how things might have gone.  The ones with degrees who had the misfortune of graduating during the Carter years and ‘lucking’ into this profession shook their heads at my frustration, partly in empathy, partly in bitterness.

And then I got a shot.  And that’s all it is.  One shot.  Sink or swim.  Nothing assured.  No comfort zone.  You suck, you go home.  No pressure, kid. But that’s my own issue.

The warmth I experienced in my last two days was completely unexpected.  I had no idea I had so many friends.  So many well-wishers, so many hugs. (Yeah, toll collectors hug too)  I feel like I’m carrying a little piece of these people with me.  The ones who had a kid(or two.)  The ones who never went away.  The ones who did and came back.  The ones just biding their time, waiting for their own moment.  I love them all, some much more than others.  And in their own ways, they have all pushed me to this.  Whether they ever even did anything at all.  My success (or failure) is my own, but I will always carry them with me and my time with them will serve as the greatest motivation of all.

So while I could pull a President Madagascar and ‘SHUT. DOWN.  EVERYTHING.” I don’t quite feel like I’m done here.  That being said, I’m not exactly sure where to take this.  It’s not as if I updated frequently back when I was collecting tolls, so I can’t say there’s much on the horizon.  Should I write about the plight of the civil servant?  The trials and tribulations of the service industry?   Customer service horror stories?  Life after toll collection?  Honestly, who knows..

But I do think I have a slightly different perspective on things.   Maybe that’s why I give the security guards a big ‘good morning’ on the way in and a simple ‘have a good night’ when I leave.  Nothing holier-than-thou.  I don’t do it out of guilt.  I’m not afraid they’ll commit suicide if I don’t squeeze out eight words.  Bay day?  Good day?  Whatever.  It’s just the right thing to do.

No big revelations here.  Just be decent.  And always treat your bartender well.

BTW, I’ve never actually introduced myself.  Name’s Vincent.  Nice to meet you guys.  We’ll talk soon.

—————-
Now playing: Muse – Exo-Politics
via FoxyTunes

 

Oh hai!

Guess what one of my new years’ resolutions was?  More blogging.  Well, we’re already one full month into 2010 and this is my first attempt.  Actually that’s not true at all; new years’ resolutions are crap. In any event, I don’t appear to be doing any better so far.  BUT!  Things actually happened tonight and I feel compelled to share.

First, the plus side to getting up ass-early in the morning:

I usually lean on my facebook updates to compile these blog posts as they act as a mini-blog of sorts and I can refer to them later to expand on.  Imma go ahead and throw up some of the best ones and elaborate when necessary:

“They must be paying you higher; they’re charging us more!” Bad troll. 0/10

Just had a staring contest with some Asians. Not really sure what the hell that was all about.

-Totally serious.  They gave me some money.  I tendered their change.  Then we just had it out.  Occasionally they mumbled something incoherent, I explained that I couldn’t understand them and the staring continued.  Eventually they drove away so I think that means that I won.  These next few don’t really need any explanation.

“ARE YOU BORED? ARE YOU BORED? YOU LOOK BORED.”

“Yea.. All I have is nickels.”

I’ve never seen so many Canadians by 8:30 in my life. Also, the flames on the truck make it go faster.

“Hold out your damn hand!”

“Can you just let me go? I don’t want to hold people up.” “There’s no one behind you.”

“Happy New Year; you don’t have to stay sober if you don’t want to!”

“My daughter thinks your handsome and would like you to have this.” (Bag of Candy!)

“Thank you ma’am-er, sir, er, whatever.”

-In fairness, my hair is getting pretty long.

Question of the day:

“Um, what is this exactly?” “…A tollbooth.”

-We shall call him “bewildered and cashless.”  Perfect.

Alright, which one of you hipsters put the Apple Computer sticker on that redneck’s truck?

-I’m sorry, but there is NO WAY that he is a mac enthusiast.  No way dudes.

Free gum from a trucker. Does I open?

- I did.  Still standing.  And it was tasty.

The employee who thinks I hunt just showed me a picture of a “17 pointer” Not sure what that even means and I’m pretty sure he’s going to find me out eventually. But until then the charade continues; told him I haven’t gotten anything yet this season. Have a feeling I’m not going to get anything either.

- I think he totally found out from someone else that I don’t hunt because he doesn’t bring it up anymore.  In fact, he barely acknowledges me.  A friendship built on lies never succeeds.

Plus side to fat co-worker? Free ten piece.

Also, don’t know exactly what that trucker said to me but I did hear “needs money for prostitutes.”

Looking back on those,  I don’t know how my Facebook friends deal with all those updates.  Actually, it does explain why I’m losing about one a week.  Annnnyway, two fun stories from tonight.

First, a carload rambunctious black girls pull up.  The very first thing I hear from one of the girls in the back is “Oooh he’s cute… Chandra(or some other urban name) you should go for him.”  They proceeded to ask(yell at) me for my phone number and to hang out with them later, on the assumption that I knew what would be up in town.  When I failed to show any interest, the next question was “WHAT?? YOU DON’T LIKE BLACK GIRLS??”

Mind you, I’m just trying to collect a toll.  I politely told them that I was working and that I really didn’t want to hang out.  (Repeating this a few times as they continued to yell over me)  As I gave them their change they told me that it was my loss and proceeded to repeatedly tell me that I was ugly.  Guess I missed out on a pretty good time.

Right near the end of my shift tonight a lady asked me how I had come about to become a toll collector.  I never really want to get into the story (partly because I’m not all that proud of where I am these days) and I think she was a little put off at first.  I did humor her but the quote that stuck with me was “Oh god, I hope he doesn’t have to work there for like another forty years!”

Me too…

I think that’s plenty toll hijinx for one night.  Thanks for coming by!  I’m definitely hoping to be here a little more often (though I ultimately hope to get a new job and shut this all down and block this part of my life from my memory forever.  But hey, until then, we muddle on!

 

Oh, Memories

As I sit in the dealership where I purchased my car cursing the the final of three free oil changes (the catch must be that they take ALL FUCKING AFTERNOON) I’m reminded of a few stories from quite some time ago.

The first goes back to a cold rainy night at a small station a few years back. Its a quiet night and I’m handing out toll tickets to a pretty sparse crowd.  It was the kind of night I always look forward to.  Shitty weather, light traffic, and plenty of time to bury myself in a book (or Nintendo DS depending on my attention span for the evening)

There was also a lot of time for staring off into space and I as I was doing so I noticed a dark figure hurriedly approaching the plaza.  Once the frantic black man reached my booth I realized I was in for some fun.  I was expecting an African American with a broken down vehicle.  I got a straight out of Africa African wearing a hospital wristband.  The next hour consisted of a phone call to the dispatcher, a lot of confused stares, stammering, me yelling (because foreign languages make more sense when loud), yours truly speaking to equally African family members that are apparently on their way on a cell phone that dies every thirty seconds, fellow collectors in the next lane over laughing at me, and general confusion all around.

After about half an hour he got a little tired of standing in the cold rain at a toll plaza and headed back off into the darkness from where he had emerged.  A state police officer caught up with him on his way back to the hospital and sorted things out.  Apparently the language barrier had proven to be a pretty big obstacle at the hospital and the man had left in frustration, leaving his wife and child behind.  Later in the evening, the aforementioned family members showed up at the correct exit, (to my extreme surprise) picked up the whole family from the hospital and nearly blowing right through the entry lane without a ticket, stupid confused smiles and all.

On another occasion I had a biker chick, drunk and equipped with a beer in a paper bag stumble on over from the local convenience store with a sob story about how her biker boyfriend left her at the gas station.  (Presumably because she was a drunk crying whiny annoying bitch)  After several attempts to call the state police for help that were immediately and vehemently denied by drunk crying annoying whiny bitch, I started to get a little annoyed.  I think the last straw was when she started to enlist entering truckers for a ride.  She peaked their interest because although busted, she had blond hair and an attractive enough body.  I probably should have just let her go but I really didn’t want to pass drunk crying annoying whiny bitch off on them.  One trucker was seriously weighing things over in his head until I gave him the look that only two men can really understand.  I’m pretty sure his truck left the pavement briefly as he hightailed it out of there.  Plus, hitchhiking is prohibited where I work.  Just doing my job, drunk crying annoying whiny bitch.  She disappeared back into the night (to the convenience store for more beer) and I heard nothing further of her exploits.  Thank God.

So yeah, neat things happen at work sometimes.

—————-
Now playing: Arcade Fire – Wake Up
via FoxyTunes

Turns out the fucking oil change wasn’t even free.  “Oh yeah that expired 130 days ago.  We figured telling you before you waited an hour and a half might discourage your business. Hope you don’t mind.”  Fucking car dealership, I wash my hands of you starting…. NOW.

 

Hey I’m re-emerging (again)

You’ll have to excuse my over month-long absence from this place.  You see sometimes I get sad about my job and this falls by the wayside.

It’s been a sad month.  But not without its fair share of strange happenings.  Let’s start with yesterday.  I rarely bring food to work because of a combination of the fact that I just never leave myself enough time and that I’m never hungry when I leave and there’s no possible way I could be hungry six hours from that time.  While on break I another collector offered me a Michelina’s frozen dinner.  While I wasn’t particularly excited about Lasagna Alfredo with Broccoli, I was hungry.   So I pulled one of the corners up to let the container vent and set the microwave for three and a half minutes.  As per the directions.   I walked away from the microwave for a grand total of forty seconds and returned to see smoke pouring out of the microwave.  (And the collector who gave me the damn thing sitting four feet away completely oblivious.)

Fire alarms are very loud and that’s a very nice thing except for the fact that when they are triggered in these buildings they can only be turned off by the fire department which means during a non-emergency everyone at the plaza has to go about their business with their ears bleeding.   Through the grace of god (or lots of open windows and doors) we managed to not set the alarm off and proceeded to carry the microwave outside and when the smoke subsided the damage was revealed:

It cooked slightly unevenly.

Forty seconds and about of a third of the paper was charred.

So go out to your local supermarket and pick up some of that new Explosive Lasagna Alfredo with Broccoli from Michelina’s.  I should have probably taken information off of the package and contacted Michelina’s but really I’m just glad I’ll never be introduced as the guy who set the toll building on fire.

A few days ago I noticed a large SUV from Illinois coming through my lane.  Inside were quite a few large black women.  The license plate on the vehicle?  PUDDIN

Another collector decided it would be a good idea to bring a bird to work.  Whatever the reason, the bird was successful in pissing me off during my breaks.

“So you’re back in school?”

“Nope”

“Decided not to go back?”

“Graduated”

“…and you’re STILL here?”

“RECEIPT! Why do you have to fucking ask everyone in this state for a fucking receipt??”

Granted, he didn’t say a word to me up until that point to indicate that he wanted one so I probably should have known.  I’m such a bad collector.

“You’re too young to be doing this boring ass job” and “Do your parents know you’re working late?” did a pretty good job in making my blood boil.

I witnessed my first live sobriety test while at work.  He was doing pretty good with the standing in place stuff but once he got to the heel-toe part he got pretty wobbly and failed.  It was fun and exciting for us.  Probably not so much for him.

Think about the demographic attending a wine festival.  Now tell me if you expect it to sound like  “HEY WHERE DA WINE FESTIVAL AT??”

I’ll break this off with one final question for you.

When did the monsters from Where the Wild Things Are start moonlighting as baptists?

/really excited for that movie.

—————-
Now playing: Minus The Bear – Houston, We Have Uh-Oh
via FoxyTunes

 

This has not been a good week

So it is 3:24 in the morning as I write this and and I have just one question for you guys.

Why the hell are you still driving? I sure as hell don’t work overnights because the hours are neat. So this traffic back-up thing at 11 pm just isn’t doing it for me.

That aside, its been a pretty awful week on the roads. It seems that the days that all the idiots strap on their velcro shoes and go for a drive coincides with days that I work. Or its just summer. But I feel like having a pity party so I’m going former.

Yesterday:
-Middle-aged woman hands me dollar, thinks better of it, and asks me to give her the dollar back becaaaauuussse she’s going to give me a 100 pennies.

-”I want to have your baby!” -male voice from back of SUV yelled with intent to make me jump.

- Coins coated with what I’m guessing is a mix of motor oil, fast food grease, and dust. Bonus- driver and passenger exclaim how gross money is and laugh when I throw money to the side in disgust.

- Driver, who when informed he is 15 cents short does a weird point and smile and starts to drive away.

- Good god, that was like six bible church vans in a row.

-Another collector has managed to break two machines so far. Can he get three by sunrise?

- No sir, I don’t want to come along fishing.

- What’s that? You don’t want to sit here with me and count out all six of those rolls of pennies you have there? Cool, I’ll take the five then.

Is it morning yet?

 

Summer doldrums

It’s been a pretty normal week out on the road but there have been a few highlights.

a.)  I really don’t mean to be insensitive here but I just don’t have much faith in the one-armed drivers of the world.  I hope they aren’t texting on top of that.

b.) Try to keep in mind that we aren’t just box-dwelling cash counting idiots.  There a number of different rules and regulations that we are very versed in and when we try to tell you something it’s probably best that you at least try to listen.  That or you can end up with nine tickets; one in excess of six thousand dollars.   True story.

c.)  When you get on a bus, you typically don’t think twice about the driver being able to get you there.  Except when they drive over an hour in the exact opposite direction of your destination turning a one hour trip into a three hour disaster.

That’s all for now but no worries; I expect a new penny wreck or two within the next two days.  Stay tuned!

 

Toll Collection Reeeeeeeeewind/My First Cross Dresser

It’s a day off and away from the road I figured I’d give you all a classic from years gone by. (and if you don’t feel like reading the unnecessarily drawn out story, refer back to the title)

I was 19 and working at a fairly busy plaza in the late evening when up pulls a totally run of the mill unassuming dark passenger car.  The occupant hands me both the ticket and money.  As I start to make change something glinting in the fairly dim light catches my eye.

Dangling earrings.  Alright, whatever.  Lots of girls where dangling earrings.  Black skirt?  Check.  Nice little blouse?   Check.  Bald head?  Uh… maybe.

Facial Ha-OKAY WHAT THE HELL?

I may have slowed down considerably making his change and I think he knew I was “checking him out.”

Not a word was spoken.

And for the record, I’ve only seen two in four years.  THANK GOD.

 

The anatomy of an eight hour shift

So it seems that this little blog might have some legs after all and for that reason I’ve decided to take you along for an eight hour shift at a busy toll plaza.

Through two hours:

0 pennies (what?!)

Lots of “have a good day” from customers. I understand pleasantries and while it’s a nice idea, I’m spending my day in a toll booth. It’s probably not going to be a nice day. How’s about you have a better day?

Good idea- politely paying your toll. Bad idea- pretending not to pay your toll and wondering why the collector didn’t find it funny.

Can I get a receipt? Can I get a receipt? Need a receipt. Receipt. Receipt please. Weekdays are hot.

The middle innings:

Up to five pennies. I’m sure they’re on their way.

Not much going on out there today but it still has been an eventful week. A couple days ago a customer handed me a one dollar bill and some change. I’ll be perfectly honest here; I don’t always look at one dollar bills that closely. But for whatever reason, I took a second glance down at the bill that had just landed in my drawer.

And staring back up at me was not the first president of this fine nation. It was none other than the first resident of the North Pole. And it was ridiculously legitimate looking with full serial numbers, all the right markings, and a killer green and white mock-up of Santa’s head.

The customer had no idea what he paid with and we shared a good laugh when I returned the bill to him. Now this is where I should be posting a picture, but for some inexplicable reason the thought never crossed my mind. Where do I turn in my social media member badge? Anyway.. Back to work!

The Late Innings:

Five Pennies!  Victory is mine!

Two fifty dollar bills from consecutive cars. What are the odds?

I’m not a mind reader. If you want a receipt you’re going to have to speak up like a big boy.

Almost without fail I will have to fill out an unpaid toll form seven+ hours into my shift.  Who travels without cash?

The collector in the lane next to me thinks I’m listening to her black bear problems but the attentive nodding is actually to pandora

But all in all a pretty uneventful day. Until next time!