Some forecasters point to the length of women’s hemlines as a good indicator of the state of the economy. Others cite whether the American or National Football Conference wins the Super Bowl as a sign.
But toll collector Kenneth Fletcher claims a better gauge is the number of inquiries he gets from people wanting jobs. Fletcher works for the Illinois State Toll Highway Authority, the state agency based in Downers Grove that administers toll roads.
“When the economy’s going gangbusters, everyone thinks collecting tolls is the worst job. When there’s nothing out there, all of a sudden, they think, `Gee, that would be a great job to have,’ ” says Fletcher, 39, who has collected tolls for 17 years and now works at Plaza 41 on the Tri-State Tollway (Interstate Highway 294 and 94 at 163rd Street in Markham).
Fletcher, who loves his job, is not alone. In a highly unscientific survey of a handful of the 712 toll collectors who deal with more than 1 million vehicles daily on the four tollways-the Tri-State, the Northwest Tollway (Interstate Highway 90), the East-West Tollway (Interstate Highway 88) and the North-South Tollway (Interstate Highway 355)-there generally was praise for the jobs, created more than 35 years ago.
And while “patrons,” as drivers are called in toll-collector jargon, may view most collectors as faceless robots who have one of the easiest yet one of the the most boring and loneliest jobs, the collectors interviewed consider their jobs quite differently for varying reasons.
For Fletcher, it has represented job security, excellent medical benefits, good vacation time-he’s up to four weeks a year-a chance to spot celebrities such as disc jockey Steve Dahl and decent, if not “great,” pay. (Full-time collectors, officially dubbed “senior collectors,” work a maximum of 40 hours a week and earn $12.42 per hour, said Len A. Wysocki, executive assistant to the manager of toll services. Part-time collectors start at $8.95 and work at least 25 hours a week.)
Fletcher says he could have earned more by advancing to a supervisory role, but didn’t want the responsibility. “I have no problems here I have to take home. My wife’s in management and always has hassles.”
For Barbara Galvan, 36, who works from midnight to 8 a.m. at Plaza 51 on the East-West at York Road in Oak Brook, the job has allowed her to be home with her children, ages 10, 13 and 15, when they come home from school, for dinner and at bedtime. “I don’t leave until they’re in bed, and I’m only 23 minutes away,” says Galvan, a collector for seven years, four full time.
She adds: “I know some people consider my job highway robbery, but I’ve waitressed, been a nurse’s aid at a nursing home and a beautician. This is definitely the best job. We also do a lot more than just collect money. We provide help to disabled cars, allay fears of people who panic when they find they’re out of money.” (She and other collectors hand drivers an envelope, take down license information and have them mail in the toll.)
For Andrew Maslak, 66, being a collector has represented less pressure for the last 13 years than his previous job of owning an independent bookstore. “I couldn’t make a living in the late ’60s, early ’70s,” says Maslak, who works at Plaza 39 on the Tri-State at 83rd Street in Hickory Hills. He tried to move up to become a supervisor, but “they decided on someone else,” he says.
Maslak likes his job so much he leaves home, eight miles away, before 6 a.m., so he has an hour before his 7 a.m. starting time to sip coffee and read the paper.
Being a toll collector for 19 years has given Lillian Papuga, 62, who works at Plaza 19 on the Northwest Tollway at River Road in Rosemont, a chance to enjoy the seasonal changes in a comfortable setting and in someone else’s clothing. (The authority provides pants, shirts and jackets and heats the booths in winter. Most collectors bring fans in the summer.) “This is better than being shut up in a factory,” she adds.
And even Stanley Bridger, 34, among the less enthusiastic of those interviewed, sees the advantages of steady work over the last 11 years, after going through a long period of unemployment in a construction trade. He works at Plaza 89 on the North-South at Boughton Road in Bolingbrook.
“Eventually, I’d like something more challenging, but for now, until my children are out of the house, it’s good,” Bridger says. “With seniority, I have a say in my selection of shifts, including more weekend time off.”
In fact, the 433 full-time and 279 part-time employees reflect a longevity that is in stark contrast to corporate employees, who are getting the heave-ho with increasing frequency. Almost 60 percent of tollway employees have worked there for at least four years, and many for 25 to 30 years, says executive assistant Wysocki.
And, despite the perception that the job is boring, most collectors develop a way to relieve the monotony, including how they set up change and hand it back. “You usually develop a style based on the person who trained you and what you learned in the training sessions,” says Maslak, who likes to make setups of 60 cents on his counter. (That’s the change left from $1 after paying the 40-cent tolls.)
During lulls in traffic, which the collectors say are few and far between, they read magazines, newspapers and books, listen to the radio, eat, talk on the intercom to adjacent collectors, which may involve gossiping about patrons who pass through and schmooze with colleagues on breaks. Both full- and part-time employees get a half-hour lunch period and two 15-minute breaks.
Many also have become adept at making sound bites of conversation and recognizing familiar faces-and cars.
“I was with my wife in a nursery and this woman started talking to me. My wife asked, `Who was that?’ I said, that was the Cadillac lady that comes through daily,” says Fletcher. “Some come through more than once a day so you get to recognize them real well.”
Papuga finds a way to talk to everybody, even those who whiz through. “Otherwise, I’d feel like a machine,” she says.
Many also celebrate holidays by giving treats to patrons or at least to their regulars. “I give candy hearts on Valentine’s Day to those I know, and candy if I’m working Halloween,” says Galvan.
Favors are sometimes returned. A regular patron handed Galvan a fruit basket one Christmas. “When I asked why, he said, `Because you’re always so pleasant.’ “
Faith Slavik, a single mom who works on the North-South Tollway also at the Boughton Road Plaza, says she has been handed doughnuts, juice and a triple treat of red roses, African violets and a poem by one enamored truck driver. She’s also been asked out.
“I never go; that’s my policy. I’ll take the phone number to be polite, but never give out mine,” says Slavik, 48, a collector for 12 years.
The toll highway authority also helps vary the collectors’ routine by having them regularly change the booths they occupy and the direction they face. Some toll roads also vary employee schedules by having full-time collectors work six days on and two off instead of the usual five days.
But, as with even the best jobs, all is not nirvana. All collectors start out part time, which means they are paid and work less, are on call around the clock and have to work the early morning and weekend shifts, which vary. “When I first started, I’d get a call in the middle of the night, when it’s dark, and have to get dressed and hurry out,” Bridger says.
There’s a fear of accidents, especially trucks or cars careening onto the toll plazas. A truck once lost its brakes and came up on the plaza where Papuga worked. “It’s a scary situation, but you try to keep cool and call for help,” she says. Slavik’s booth once was hit by a car and she was knocked off her stool. She most fears exploding gas tanks.
Fear of robbery is another constant. “Four years ago I was hassled by a young guy who asked for my money. I thought he was holding a pipe, but wasn’t sure. It could have been a gun. I hit my alarm,” says Galvan, who adds that she generally feels safe because of the panic buttons installed 15 years ago.
The buttons are hooked up to a supervisor’s office, which, in turn, is hooked into a police station.
Having to deal with impatient, rude patrons is another concern. Collectors say the number has escalated over time. “There’s lot of honking when we’re asked to give directions or help someone. Some people even yell or cram the money in our hands as they zoom through because they’re annoyed,” Fletcher says.
“There are times when I have to write down something and honking isn’t going to make me write faster; it actually slows me up,” adds Fletcher, who says he has sometimes cursed under his breath but never out loud.
Papuga recalls being yelled at when she couldn’t provide directions. “You shouldn’t have the job if you don’t know,” the person screamed.
And, yes, collectors also have to deal with some disgusting behavior. Would you believe, for example, drivers who crumple money up so it takes time to unwrap; use bills as tissues to blow their noses or as napkins to wipe off food; heat coins with a lighter so it burns collectors’ hands; hold the money in their mouths; and exhibit lewd behavior.
“But it’s not the majority at all,” Papuga says and others agree.
And, according to these collectors, the question they most frequently are asked is whether they have the opportunity to steal money.
“Absolutely not,” is Fletcher’s reply. “You’d be an absolute fool.”
The toll highway authority has set up a double-check system to track collections as well as keep its collectors honest.
Collectors are given a set amount of money at the beginning of their shift that they return at the end of the day, along with what they collect and place in a locked bag. An electromechanical treadle in each lane tracks the number of axles that roll over it (the tolls are based on the number of axles a vehicle has.) Treadles gradually are being computerized to speed the count.
What may be the ultimate test of the collectors’ pleasure with their jobs is that most interviewed said they plan to stay in the toll booths until they retired, or, according to Bridger, “until I win Lotto.”
