Was the Toronto Transit Commission always this miserable? Were we all too tolerant of this terrible rumbling behemoth? Have we aged/evolved into miserable curmudgeons ourselves?
Does the election have anything to do with it?These are the questions that cross a columnist's mind as he contemplates the sleeping TTC ticket taker's presence in the garbage compressor of the Death Star, on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and anywhere else an Internet wag with an unlicensed copy of Photoshop and a hate-on for the TTC can think to put him. If ever there was a winter of discontent for the Toronto Transit Commission, it is this one. And the heat of that discontent goes far beyond a measured reaction to the very real frustrations that Torontonians have felt these last few months.Anyone over the age of two has seen a fare hike before the 25 cent increase that hit riders in January. And there have always been problems with the transition, as the TTC takes tokens offline and makes everyone buy tickets. Circumstances beyond the TTC's control have been stopping subways at rush hour long before that contractor cut the shell of the subway tunnel on Yonge Street late last year. And we've been dealing with a statistically significant number of growling, uncivil transit employees since the electrification of streetcars. Some of them, you wish they'd take a nap.But it's as though this winter, we Torontonians have collectively woken up, looked across the pillow, and realized: this boob of a transit system we married those years ago is a real jerk. And it's not looking any younger either. Why couldn't we have married VIVA instead?The TTC has certainly caught the hint. This week, Chair Adam Giambrone called a news conference that was an exercise in contrition. He and Chief General Manager Gary Webster stood in front of cameras and reporters, and acknowledged: the TTC is failing to live up to expectations in the area of customer service. Last year, the commission fielded some 30,000 complaints about service. While delays and breakdowns topped the list, bad interpersonal service came in second. They made excuses: since the Russell Hill subway tragedy in the 1990s, the TTC has first and foremost been concerned about safety. The culture has simply not been attuned to making the rocket ride a pleasant one. As Webster himself pointed out: "We're not hearing people tell us, 'I really look forward to getting on the TTC. I really look forward to enjoying my ride home.'"It is true, TTC, we never say we love you any more. But if it makes you feel any better, it's not just you. It's us too.The real problem we have with the TTC isn't that it's gotten worse. It's that it hasn't worked very hard at getting better. It's been a decade since the idea of providing fare cards came up and the TTC is still a long way from providing those. It's been more than a decade that private sector retailers have been able to incorporate Interac payment systems. If the TTC had that system in place, riders wouldn't have to bring cash to pay for their $100 Metropasses each month. And it would have been nice if, as ridership grew over the past decade, the TTC also figured out a way to avoid those lineups at the single ticket-takers which deal with bulk token purchases and cash fare entry at the same time.Bottom line: there are more of us than there used to be, and we're all used to doing business in a modern world that acknowledges the reliability of electronics, the same as it relies on gravity to make those token dispensers work. The TTC is getting to some of that now that it's become clear how upset we all are - and how vulnerable it might be. There's a mayoralty race on, and at least one of the candidates, Rocco Rossi, is talking about a wholesale reorganization of the TTC. Another, George Smitherman, has made his affection for the provincially run Metrolinx transit authority, very clear. Adam Giambrone, who's expected to announce his mayoralty campaign next week, will no doubt be taking a different view of the transit commission. But he'll have his work cut out for him, defending it and himself, during this rough patch between the city and its subways.