Let the Feeble Wait!

June 20th, 2013 by Harrumpher Leave a reply »

I visited the Charlie Card Store in  downtown Boston for the first time yesterday. The well-lit, clean room is at once a marvel of efficiency and a bureaucratic torture chamber.

The MBTA has consolidated its special services — things you can’t get or do online or by phone. Those include transferring stored value among cards, replacing damaged cards, and reduced fare cards for seniors and the disabled including blind riders. There is a little joke there. To get your T services, including reduced fare, you really need to take the T to get to the location, paying full fare on the way. Nearly no one lives near downtown crossing.

The room is rather like an attractive, sit-down-while-you-wait deli counter. The receptionist and clerks at each of six stations are pleasant and efficient…within T policy. When you arrive, you explain what you are there to do. The receptionist performs triage and produces a deli-style ticket with your number, like E917.

As it turns out, your fate was determined at that moment.

fairmountstopThe office hours are 8 AM to 5:30 PM, Monday through Friday. Right away that means that both white-collar and blue-collar workers take off work time. As with most bureaucracy, the citizens serve at the pleasure of the overlords. That’s typical and not really unusual or punitive.

However, as I watched, waited and then listened, the nefarious aspect revealed itself. Many of the elderly and disabled squirmed and some complained as they saw others get their numbered chits, get served and leave. They sat and heard and saw the number-being served at which station announced and shown.

An unctuous worker eventually walked through the room past the seats of gumblers. He explained in a monotone. This clearly was not his first time giving the little speech. It seems some services take longer than others. Those troublesome ones would include the likes of senior and disable cards. Those require taking a photo.

That process is highly automated. a wee camera at each station captures an image of the rider and a fancy printer behind the clerks spits out the ID in well under a minute. The only time-consuming part seemed to be typing the name and address off the license or other ID.

At first I didn’t quite believe I heard right. Yet, there is no FIFO here. First-come means squat. If you can’t see well, can’t walk agiilely, or are just old, you are at the back of the line. The fitter take precedence. You wait.

I guess for the old or disabled, the attitude is this is good practice for the larger world. You wait as the younger and able-bodied pass you by.

I hadn’t expected philosophy to be built into the system.

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