There are some jobs you take even if you have no idea what lies in front of you. Then, you realize what a life-changer the job becomes.
That would describe my two-year stint as bus driver for the Springs of Napa, which is an independent living facility for senior citizens in Napa, CA.
In December 2014, I left behind the only career I knew, sports journalist. However, due to the declining state of the industry, I began sowing the seeds for my exit in March 2012. Three months later, I passed three written DMV tests as well as my DOT physical to get my CDL Class B permit. In October 2012, I spent two weeks at Falcon Trucking School in Vallejo, CA, to pass my behind the wheel test and earn my Class B license.
My chance at transitioning out of the newspaper industry was to work part-time in another field while juggling my full-time job. Being a father of three, that would be a challenge but it was necessary. In January 2013, I landed a job with MV Transportation, which is a transit bus company in Fairfield, CA. I did not want the job but I had to take it in order to shake the “no experience” tag.
Six weeks later, I discovered the Springs of Napa needed a bus driver. Within two days, I interviewed with Tom Pietrantonio and Peter Beloberk, manager and co-manager respectively. I sold them on being a native Napan and knowing my way around town along with representing my community and family the right way. They told me how dealing with elderly would require patience and compassion. The latter, I have never had issues. I am as compassionate as the day is long. The former, however, not so much, having three toddlers at the time.
The job would involve transporting residents to doctor appointments, hair appointments and shopping trips, etc. The previous bus driver had resigned and the facility was without bus service for three weeks. They convinced me that I would be an instant hero because they finally had bus service. Before my first day on the job, I asked myself, “I’m 40 years old. I’ll be dealing with mostly elderly women. How is this generational gap going to work?”
Then I discovered something pretty amazing: a) Treat them like they matter and they’ll return the favor, b) Resign yourself to the idea that you’re not going to change them.
Within a few weeks, I became like a surrogate grandson and/nephew to them. I was blessed to have four loving grandparents and remain blessed with two loving parents. I’ve also been blessed to have many loving aunts and uncles. These ladies, however, made me feel important because I made them feel valued. Being a young male bus driver, I would also get kidding but innocent remarks like, “We’re so lucky to have a handsome young man drive us around.”
I could a tell a zillion stories about this job but in a nutshell, it felt like driving The Golden Girls (i.e. Betty White & Co) around town. There are four stories that keep flashing through my brain:
I’m going for a ride with you, Kid
Isabella Gore, who died in June 2016 at 95 had a gruff exterior but if she liked you, she was as sweet as apple pie. I was one of the lucky ones. She referred to herself as “Izzy.” How many 90-year old Izzys are out there? Near the front of the building, there was a passenger log. Residents would sign their name and put their destination. I never required people to sign their name but I always preferred they did so in the interest of planning my route.
So I made a copy of the signout sheet each day. After doing my 15-minute pre-trip inspection of the bus, I drove it in front of the building. As passengers are lining up to enter the bus, I’m looking at the sheet. I see Izzy in line but I don’t see her name on the the list. So I ask, “Where are you headed, Izzy?” She quipped: “I’m going for a ride with you, kid.” I quipped back: “So you’re just escaping from here for a little bit?” She smiles: “You’re damn right, kid.” Hop on board, I say.
Izzy called everybody, “Kid.” Even if you were a fellow 90-year old. Lo and behold, at least three other residents followed her lead on later bus trips. One day, I had more residents looking to escape than I had ones that had to go somewhere.
The near brawl that I feared
The activities director had abruptly quit. She was responsible for driving residents to recreational trips. Her resignation meant that I was responsible for transporting and playing chaperone. There was a resident named Lorraine, who was suffering dementia, that signed up for the trip. Though the bus had no assigned seating, both Lorraine and Izzy always insisted on having the front seat of the bus even if there were other vacant ones.
So I drive the bus near the front of the building. Lorraine leans into the path, luckily 50-or-so feet away. So I wave my arms to tell her to get back under the canopy. Instead she walks toward the bus doors, which open outward. I gesture with my arms for her to move away from the bus so the door does not hit her as they open. She obliges but then rushes to the front seat. As I walk by Izzy, the feisty one clenches her fist, “I’m gonna punch that damn woman right in the nose!”
At this point I’m nervous having to juggle the roles of bus driver and chaperone, so I check in with Tom and his wife, Liz, to alert them. Liz quips: “Just make sure they stay out of jail!” I’m chuckling: “With Izzy and Lorraine that might be an issue.” Fortunately Liz diffused the situation.
So Izzy and Lorraine are sitting next to each other. I remember the whole trip with baited breath thinking, “Am I going to have to break up two 90-year olds with canes and walkers from smacking the hell out of each other.”
The white haired lady with glasses
Perhaps the single funniest moment on the bus one day became a running joke. So I mention a resident’s name and another one asks, “Who’s she?” Without even thinking about what I was saying, I blurted out, “The white-haired lady with glasses.”
The infamous Izzy chimes in, “That REALLY narrows it down, kid!”
Maintaining a friendship
When I use the term “maintaining a friendship,” I don’t necessarily refer to as doing things socially with them. However, once a month, I stop by the Springs of Napa at lunch-time to visit them. Seeing the smiles on their faces when I tell them “I just came by to visit” makes their day. Honestly, it makes mine too.
It still amazes to me to this day that when I interviewed for this job, I did it to simply gain experience so I could get out of a dying industry. The friendships that this job morphed into, however, mean way more than CDL Class B driving could ever mean.
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