BART strikes are on hold, but the standoff between workers — demonized by many, humanized here — and the district continues
"The problem is BART seems to wait until someone gets killed until they want to do something about it," he said.
Bright is a new grandfather. He helps support his daughter and her two toddlers, and he supports his older brother who suffers from dementia. Bright has a home that his fiancée bought, but is "upside-down," as he says, because of a predatory loan.
He's one of the lucky ones though, as the military pays for his health care, and the negotiations don't impact him as far as that goes. But he does worry about his pension, and thinks he may have to cut back on supporting his elderly brother and his grandchildren. Even with those cutbacks in his life, he'll likely have to look for a part-time job as a car mechanic, he said.
While contemplating that future, his four-hour daily commute, and the new expectations BART asked of his crew to repair more cars in less time, he started to develop an ulcer.
"They're short on people, and it's cheaper for the managers to pay for overtime than to pay for another person," he said. The stress pressed on him and one day at work he grew dizzy and collapsed. That's when he started to be a little more Zen about what BART asked of him. But he still said it's not right.
"Our shop is a mod [modification] shop, but we got tasked with doing preventive maintenance. Our shop isn't set up for that," he said. And that means workers who aren't trained for that particular job are pushed to fix up cars when normally they're doing an entirely different job. That can be dangerous, he said.
"We have to make sure that those trains not only run, we also have to make sure they're safe," Bright said. "Something could happen, like a panel popping off. It touches the third rail, it could catch on fire. If we could miss something... it could cause a derailment."
As far as Bright goes, he said he's seeing more people working overtime at the request of managers, working longer hours that could lead to unsafe conditions — not just for the mechanics, but for the people who ride BART every day.
Phyllis Alexander has been with BART for 16 years in systems service, which she said basically means, "cleaning, cleaning, cleaning."
"Wherever they need me, that's what I do," she said.
Alexander often starts her days cleaning the elevators and escalators at Powell Street Station, and if you've been reading the news lately, you know what that means.
She doesn't mince words about it: "I clean the urine and the feces out of the elevators and make sure it's clean and smelling good for the patrons."
But Alexander doesn't hold it against the homeless. When she first started at BART, she had little contact with them. But over the years, she's made good friends out of some of the homeless at Powell and 16th Street stations, and the latter is where she sat and told her story.
"As the years passed, it got worse. People living in their cars on the streets, in their doorways. I've met a lot of wonderful homeless people, wonderful people," she said. And as the years went by, it got harder for the cleaning crew, too. She's one of two systems service folk who take care of Powell Street Station at any one time.
"Sometimes it can be tough, it can get hectic, but we get it done. It's hecka huge, and there's only two of us, but we have to do the best we can do."
But she keeps with it for herself and her daughter.
Her daughter just finished medical school and is still living with her. Alexander makes about $52,000 a year, she said, and couldn't figure out major cuts she'd make in her lifestyle to make room for paying more into her pension or health care.