Monday, June 18, 2007

Here we go again

My son and I had a great time at the island yesterday. Really he would go every single day.

Getting there was a bit of a challenge. My son's left hand got caught in the elevator door at Broadview Station. (of course we were on the other side of the door.)

Thankfully I was able to pry his fingers from between the two sliding doors. We exited the elevator and I inspected his fingers on the westbound platform. Purple-red, swollen and scraped skin. Plus lots of tears.

I decided to take him back to the collector's booth to report the incident and obtain first-aid.

The TTC collectors response? Indifference. Our conversation went like this.

"My son just got his fingers caught in the elevator door."

"What do you expect me to do?" he replied.

I gave him a strange/annoyed look. "Do you have any ice?"

"Now, why would I have that?" he replied in a sarcastic tone.

I just stared at him stunned. "I'd like first-aid for my son. Do you have a first-aid kit?"

"Yes, I can only give you a couple of band-aids. I can't do anything else." he said shrugging.

Now I'm getting angry. "I'd like to file a report. "

"You can call 393-INFO on Monday to file a report."

"No, I'd like to file an accident report today."

"You can call 393-INFO on to file a report."

"That's it? Those supervisors over there at the streetcar platform can't help me?"

"No, they can't."

"Will someone answer my call at that number today?"

"Yup." he replied in a bored tone.

I left the station. I walked around the corner to the McDonald's where they were kind enough to give us ice and genuine concern for my son's well being.

I bought a yogurt to distract him while I applied the ice to his fingers (only moderately successful). I also called the TTC to report the incident. I was assured by Arlene that someone would call me on Monday morning to take my report.

My son had understandably tender fingers, but he seemed to be returning to his normal self. Now about 15-25 minutes have passed since we left in search of ice. We head back to the station.

Same collector. My son helps me swipe my metropass and I start to proceed with my son through the turnstile. The collector stops us. He now wants me to pay a fare for my son to get back into the station. (It wasn't an issue for this same collector when we entered the first time.)

"You want me to pay for my son?" I ask incredulously.

"Children over 2 need to pay to use the transit system" he responds with a smirk.

I am beyond angry. I purchase more children's tickets, deposit one and ask for his name.

"13552" rolled off his tongue effortlessly. I suspect it's been requested a lot.

1 comment:

Susan Williamson said...

I can't believe this. I hope your little guy is better.
P.S. Write to Adam Giambrone!!!!