Getting There?

Photo snapped by author of the post, 17 February 2010, 8:45 a.m.

It's us. Phillyist. Your loyal customers.

Okay. Loyal may be a bit much. It's not like you have competition. Let's call us your regular customers. The ones who take your buses and trains and trolleys and subways to and from work every day. Sometimes, we take you at lunchtime, too. And sometimes, we take you on weekends.

This kind of customer regularity is what keeps you from going bankrupt, even when your drivers' union get selfish. You need to raise your rates? Not much we can do about it, is there?

So is it too much to ask, in exchange for our complacency, that you could practice a little thing called customer service? It's not that you don't have some great employees—we love us some Operator 55—but, um, don't you think that when you have around 500 people waiting over half an hour for a train, and when one finally comes but is so crowded that it can't accommodate any new passengers, and so many people keep stacking up on the platform that they can't even make it through the turnstiles anymore ... you could be a little proactive about it? Make an announcement, at least? Apologize to the hundreds of people who will be late to jobs they're lucky to have? Set up shuttle buses? Hell: pass out hot cocoa. Something. Anything.

But keeping us in the dark, letting us stand outside or underground, continuing to accept people's fares to the point that standing on the platform becomes dangerous? This is not the way to treat the people who rely on you. You oughta be ashamed of yourself. (The Twitterverse seems to agree.)

Oh, and you owe us for gas and parking. After half an hour, we gave up, walked the third of a mile down un-shoveled sidewalks back home, scraped a week's worth of ice off our windshield, and drove to work.

Were you stuck waiting for the El this morning, too? Leave us a comment and let us know—and don't forget to tweet or write SEPTA to let them know that crappy customer service is totally uncool.