The following statement is an account of my experience that occurred while traveling on your Greyhound transportation service. The conversations in quotes contained in this statement are not necessarily verbatim but are as accurate as I can recall under the circumstances at the time.
On August 14th at approximately 7:30 PM, I arrived at the Fort Lauderdale Greyhound station to pick up my one way pre-paid bus ticket to Atlanta, Georgia. I paid an additional $15 change of date fee and $10 for additional baggage. I was informed at that time by the ticket agent that the bus was running a little late. After about a half-hour later, I was told that the bus was running about an hour and a half behind schedule. I told my friend to take her and her son home because I'm sure they hadn't anticipated waiting so long.
The young man told me and the other passengers that he did not have a clue as to what time the bus would arrive. The bus finally arrived about 10:10 PM. At the boarding gate, we were short by our driver at the Orlando station who was aware of our scheduling problem and there would be a bus waiting for us when we arrived in Orlando to take us to our destinations. A few passengers asked for an explanation for the bus being over two hours late. One of the agents replied what do you expect when you're riding Greyhound?
When we arrived at the Orlando station about 3:15 AM, we were informed by a Greyhound agent that there was no bus waiting for us and that we were going to have to wait until 6:50 AM for a connecting bus. The agent was suddenly hit with a barrage of local expressions of dissatisfaction and demands to speak to a supervisor. The agent responded by saying he was the supervisor and there was nothing that could be done. A few passengers asked to speak to his supervisor and his reply was that he was the highest supervisor in the station. Some of the passengers insisted on speaking to someone else higher in authority.
The supervisor responded by offering Greyhound's corporate address. It was a very tense situation that was compounded by the lack of sympathy and empathy and more importantly no apology. The agent who identified himself as a supervisor-in-charge took a luggage cart to our bus and started bringing over the passengers luggage. A male security guard of African descent with a pronounced accent and completely bald instructed the passengers to stand behind a yellow line and wait to claim their luggage. In November 2009, I sustained a broken bone in my foot in my leg just above the ankle when I was hit by a tractor trailer. My injuries are not completely healed and I still have to wear a leg brace from time to time so the two boxes traveling with me under the bus had yellow assistance tags on them.
After my fellow passengers claimed their luggage and went into the station mines were the only remaining packages on the dock. The agent handling the packages had disappeared from my site and the same security officer who was present began walking towards the back entrance doors to the station but still in front of me. I became a little concerned for my packages. They contained my Hewlett-Packard desktop computer, a three speaker computer stereo system, Dell 25-inch flat screen monitor, Hewlett-Packard web cam and other various peripherals, cords and wires all purchased between March and April of this year. Not to mention the information contained on my hard drive and the DVD software, files and music that were also in my boxes. So needless to say, I did not feel comfortable just walking inside the station while my boxes were outside seemingly unattended.
I got the attention of the security officer by saying, "Excuse me, sir, do you know if the man who was handling the bags is planning on leaving my boxes here because they have yellow tags on them and I'm not sure if he's aware of that or not?" The security officer stared past and beyond me for what I consider an inappropriate amount of time, turned his gaze to me and said yes, turning his gaze once again beyond me. Standing there somewhat stymied for another uncomfortable length of time but still looking beyond me, the security officer said he'll get them when he gets ready. I said so he is coming back for them. Is it okay for me to go inside or should I wait out here with them until he comes back?
The security officer cut his eyes towards me and gave me a look like that of someone who was getting ready to be in a fight and said, "Look! I'm not going to keep going back-and-forth debating with you. I said he'll get them when he gets ready and if that's not good enough for you, you can take them in yourself." In an attempt to give the conversation a clean slate, I tried to appeal to him saying, "Sir, I'm not trying to give you a hard time or anything. I'm simply concerned about my property and it's been a long time since I've traveled on Greyhound and I'd guess I just kind of want to know what's going to become of my packages."
The security officer said very nastily, "Sir, I want you to stop talking to me going back-and-forth about your luggage. If you don't like the way we do things, you can take your packages and leave. I'm not going to keep telling you."
I couldn't believe that the security guard for Greyhound was speaking to me in this manner and it became clear to me that the conversation could only go downhill from this point forward. You are being very rude and disrespectful to a customer and I added that I was a disabled veteran, that no one deserves to be treated in this manner and that I would be filing a complaint against him.
I turned around and started walking towards the doors to the station and the security officer told me to stop. I turned around to face him and he said in an overly authoritative tone to come here. I told him that we didn't have anything further to discuss. He said this is your last chance. Come here now! I walked over to him apprehensively and he put his face very close to mine and said, "I don't give a damn about veterans were disabled veterans and I don't give a damn about you and you to report me to whoever you want because I do it like this all day long and I've been doing this for a while." Fighting back tears of anger and disbelief, I told him that I was going to find a supervisor. He said, "Okay then, what does it like this! Give me your ticket Sir." I was afraid to give him my ticket and it made me ashamed of myself and angry, even furious.
When people travel on Greyhound they will typically spend time in at least two terminals depending on your point of departure and destination, finding themselves in different towns, cities and states and often times there are places they have never been to before and maybe have never even heard of before. Why would Greyhound allow their customers to be intimidated, harassed and even threatened like this? We are not the proverbial local hood or dog trespassing on Greyhound property for the umpteenth time for the sole purpose of preying on unsuspecting travelers. This is what was going through my mind during this entire exchange. The security officer looked at me cold and calculatingly and repeated his demand, adding, "I can ask you for your ticket 100 times and you have to give it to me every time. I can do that. I'll ask you one more time and if you don't let me see it, I'll call the police and have you arrested for trespassing and riding on this bus to Atlanta."
I cannot recall the last time I felt so vulnerable, helpless, scared, alone and livid. It was the day my mother died. I summoned the strength to humble myself and to try to get a hold of my emotions and myself under the crushing, overwhelming presence of this perverted injustice that had befallen me, reached in my pocket and handed this security officer what was literally my only ticket out of this bad dream. He motioned his hand that was holding my ticket to follow him and started quick stepping towards the station saying in an oddly professional sounding voice, "Come with me, Sir." A lot of things were going through my mind at that point. I follow him into an office.
There were two other employees of Greyhound inside. I had this sickening feeling in my stomach that he was going to ask me in front of his two coworkers where is your ticket! Instead, he instructed me to put my carryback on the floor, which I did promptly. There was a woman sitting behind a kiosk type desk, who would appear to be in her mid-50s to early 60s, tending a man standing to my right in front of me who was wearing a blue shark and I believe a black vest.
The officer asked the woman to hand him something and she gave him a mini pamphlet which he placed on the desk in front of me and told me to pick it up and read. I wear prescription glasses with transition bifocals and it was about 3:30 AM. With sweat dripping into my eyes stinging and having been awake since 7 AM the previous morning, my eyes were no match for such small print. I was however able to figure out the general meaning. It appeared to be a ruse and regulations and/or conduct while on Greyhound property and the penalties for noncompliance. He asked me if I read the part about being rude and I told him I had. Then he went right into this beach saying, "So you see, you cannot talk to me anyway you want and disrespect me because I'm not going to tolerate it. And I'm telling you this right now in front of the manager on duty," he was gesturing towards the woman who was sitting down, "that I will not tolerate anyone being rude or disrespectful to me."
I could have sworn that the man handling our baggage said that he was the supervisor in charge. I looked at the security guard like he was crazy or maybe he thought I was. Being in the station with the other passengers who were able to see through the glass in the office made me feel a little more comfortable. I looked at the manager in charge who had this fixed nervous, uncomfortable smile on her face. The man wearing the vest seemed to be deliberately looking towards the wall as if the conversation wasn't even taking place.
And I look again to the officer in placing my fingertips to my chest and said to him, "Sir, I just told you outside that I was going to file a complaint against you for being very rude and disrespectful to me. Then you seized my ticket (making me feel like I was under arrest) and ordered me to follow you into this office and now you're going to try to flip the script on me in front of these people and say that I was being disrespectful to you? No sir. Were not doing it like that."
The security officer said, "Don't interrupt me when I'm speaking. You had your chance outside. Now it's my turn." He continued talking, basically repeating what he previously said. The security officer never specified what I was supposed to have said that was rude or disrespectful. He handed my ticket to me and said to go sit down somewhere and wait for my bus. I said wait a minute. I am so my side of the story to the manager. He said that it didn't matter what I wanted to say. I looked at the manager who was wearing the same expression on her face. I found this somewhat unsettling. I said, "Ma'am, may I speak?"
She cut her eyes towards the security officer as if to give instructions on what she should do. I followed her eyes and looked at the security officer also and then looked back to the manager, waiting for a response.
Finally she said, "What do you want to say?" As I began recounting my version of what took place, she turned her head and eyes towards the security officer. When I got to the point where the security officer began his rude and disrespectful behavior, he interrupted me and said she doesn't want to know what I have to say! I looked at her trying to determine if this was true or not that she was avoiding my eyes, so I took that as an affirmation.
I felt like the fix was in. Justice was not going to be found at the Orlando Greyhound station. I sat and walked inside and walked some more trying to shake the feeling that I was somewhere in the twilight zone until my bus arrived. I did, however, pay extra attention to the employees and/or agents working in the bus terminal and the interactions they had with fellow passengers. I personally saw to maybe three (because I was quite tired and exhausted) similar though not as exaggerated exchanges with both the security officers on duty with the passengers. These were in my opinion very mild disagreements or even misunderstandings that were brought to a halt by the security officers demanding that the passenger give them their ticket. Once the ticket was in their hand the passenger was told to follow them into the office and to have a seat.
I can't help but wonder now how many times my and other similar scenarios take place on a day-to-day basis not just at the station but stations around the country. When my bus arrived in Macon, our driver said that we could get off the bus for about 20 minutes. I walked past a man who was one of the passengers and he smiled at me and asked me how I am doing? I told them I was doing all right. Then he said he still couldn't believe that that security officer was talking to me like that. I asked him if he was referring to what was said in the office. He said no, he really couldn't hear what was being said in the office but he could see me in there. He said he was referring to how he was talking to me outside.
I had thought we were alone outside during the exchange and I asked him if he heard the whole conversation. He said no but he had come outside to see what was going on. My back was to the doors during the majority of the conversation between the security officer and myself so I never saw him. I told him that I was going to file a complaint with Greyhound. He said his name was Malcolm ** and told me to write his name down and that I could use his name in my report if I wanted to because he heard that security officer was talking to me and he said that that was just wrong. I want to let you know that I literally felt like I was in some faraway communist country and that my rights were being stripped away from me before my very eyes and that I will find out what recourse is available to me. In order to be fair, I must commend the bus driver of the 6:50 AM Orlando bus to Atlanta.
She was the only one of your agents who made a public insincere apology on behalf of herself and Greyhound for any and all inconveniences that we (the passengers/customers) had endured. She identified herself as Sandra. I was sitting in the second row behind her when she finished her announcement coming forward and thanked her in a loud voice. Later on in the day, while walking past me doing a headcount, I asked her for her ID number which he gladly gave me **. I hope I wrote it down right.