Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, July 10, 1994 TAG: 9407150050
SECTION: BUSINESS PAGE: F-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: By TERRY MAXON DALLAS MORNING NEWS
DATELINE: WEST PALM BEACH, FLA. LENGTH: Long
Two sheriff's deputies from Palm Beach County have boarded the Greyhound Lines Inc. bus he's riding, and they're checking every passenger's bags for weapons and drugs.
If the other passengers on the nearly full bus resent the searches, they don't show it. They seem resigned to their fate. But Carl Smith isn't like the other passengers. In fact, he isn't even Carl Smith.
On most days, he's Frank Schmieder, president and chief executive officer of Dallas-based Greyhound. But about once every two to three months, Schmieder changes from his suit and tie into casual clothes to make an undercover inspection somewhere in Greyhound's coast-to-coast system. Other top executives regularly hit the road as well.
``You have to see it through the eyes of a passenger,'' Schmieder says. ``You have to see it yourself.''
What Schmieder sees on this day, however, makes him angry: a drug search that apparently turns up nothing and causes delays.
Still, Schmieder's time is not wasted. He'll take back reports on problems at Greyhound's Miami terminal, a late-arriving bus and the drug-and-weapon search in West Palm Beach. He also decides that the $43 Miami-Orlando fare is too high, and he gets a blistering report on Greyhound from an unhappy bus driver.
Schmieder's day begins with his arrival at the Miami terminal around 6:30 a.m. as dawn is about to break. He waits a minute until a ticket agent holding a small carton of milk strolls through the waiting area and goes behind the counter. The agent isn't hostile but neither is she particularly friendly.
Schmieder, wearing a green knit shirt, beige cotton pants and white athletic shoes, buys a one-way ticket for the five-hour trip to Orlando, using the Smith name. He adopts a pseudonym each time so ticket agents won't recognize him.
After paying for the ticket, Schmieder does a quick inspection of the terminal, then sits down in a plastic chair to make some notes.
In the bathroom, the toilet won't stop running, and there's a hole in the wall under the sink. In the waiting room, a film of dried soap and dirt covers the baseboards and the bottoms of the vending machines.
``At least I know they don't know I'm here,'' he comments as he fills out a card he'll take back to headquarters. On the agent's performance, he notes, ``Weak on engaging the customer.''
What really grinds Schmieder's gears, though, is the telephone reservation numbers for Greyhound. They don't work. The previous night, he called the local number from his hotel and got the message that the number was disconnected. He gets the same message when he calls the toll-free number from the terminal.
``There'll be hell to pay on this,'' he says. ``That's just what I'm here to look for.''
Although the Miami-Orlando bus is supposed to depart at 7 a.m. sharp, Bus 7940, a 46-seater, doesn't roll up to the terminal until 7:05 a.m. With boarding, luggage loading and ticket checking, driver James Bond doesn't pull out of the parking lot until 7:20, 20 minutes late.
Schmieder, who takes a seat halfway to the back, approves of the terminal's outside lot and exterior, and of Bond's appearance, with one demerit: ``OK, except for the toothpick in his mouth.''
Bond skillfully maneuvers the bus through early rush-hour traffic northward on Interstate 95 out of Miami toward Fort Lauderdale, where the bus is supposed to arrive at 7:45 a.m. ``I don't think we're going to make it,'' Schmieder says.
He's right. The bus arrives at Fort Lauderdale's terminal at 7:55 a.m. and leaves at 8:05, 10 minutes late on each mark. Miami passengers continuing on past Fort Lauderdale aren't supposed to get off the bus, and Schmieder does a brief inspection of the terminal through his window. No problems noted.
The driver, Bond, makes an impressive announcement a few blocks after the bus leaves the station. From memory, he rattles off a lengthy list of connections on a half-dozen routes that converge in West Palm Beach, Orlando and Atlanta, taking passengers to Los Angeles, Chicago or New York, city by city.
The announcement, which continues for nearly a minute, warns passengers that smoking and drinking are not allowed on the bus and that they must obey all rules.
``He's a good driver,'' Schmieder says. ``He doesn't speed. I haven't heard his alarm go off once,'' referring to the on-board radar system that warns drivers that they are too close to other vehicles or obstacles.
As the bus continues north, Schmieder is optimistic that the bus will be back on schedule by the time it gets to Orlando. But those hopes are dashed soon after the bus pulls up to the curb at Greyhound's West Palm Beach terminal.
Two men - one wearing jeans and a striped shirt, the other with shorts and a colorful T-shirt and sporting a gold earring - board the bus and walk to the rear.
They introduce themselves to the passengers, one by one: They are sheriff's deputies for Palm Beach County, looking for illegal weapons and drugs. Would the passengers mind if they check their hand luggage and purses? Nobody objects.
It takes more than 15 minutes for the two deputies to work their way through the nearly full bus. Schmieder doesn't protest as the striped-shirt deputy goes through his two bags. Schmieder decides not to identify himself as the president of Greyhound. However, he has a pained expression on his face.
As the search moves on to the front, Schmieder quietly fumes. He surmises that the searches represent the county's use of federal drug grants.
``This is outrageous. They wouldn't dare do this on an airplane,'' Schmieder mutters. ``But because these are poor people, they think they can search them.''
He plans to protest, as the company did for similar searches on a Lake Charles, La.-New Orleans bus. But the law enforcement people will say they had a tip, Schmieder says. What can you do? He says he supports the fight against drugs but not through passenger searches he considers discriminatory.
The deputies, who don't search the larger bags checked in the belly of the bus, apparently find nothing and exit the front door. The bus leaves at 9:24 a.m., considerably after the 9 a.m. scheduled departure.
A day after Schmieder gets back to Dallas, he talks to other executives about what he has seen.
The $43 fare is reduced to $39, and other Florida fares are priced lower.
He learns that the Miami terminal manager had already requested repairs to the toilet and wall. No agent is reprimanded, but the manager talks to all his troops about the need to smile at least three times when they talk to a customer, regardless of the hour of day.
Meanwhile, Greyhound general counsel George Hanthorn talks to federal and state officials about the searches and expresses Greyhound's concerns.
Also, the toll-free reservation phone number isn't the problem it first seemed. It turns out that Schmieder transposed two numbers, dialing 321-2222 rather than 231-2222. He takes some kidding when he returns to headquarters. But Greyhound added 321-2222 as one of its 800 numbers in addition to 231-2222.
The local reservation number, meanwhile, had changed since the Miami telephone books were printed. In the future, the Greyhound staff will try to time the change of reservation numbers with the printing of new phone books.
But generally, Schmieder is pleased at what he saw. It's not like a visit two years ago to the Los Angeles terminal, where he saw long lines, supervisors hiding in their offices, poor maintenance, homeless people wandering in and out and, in the parking lot, a disabled car with a man living in it. The eventual result was changes in management, both at the terminal and at the vice president level.
It's final grade time for Florida. Schmieder will give the Miami terminal a passing grade, maybe a B-minus, maybe a B-plus. The Orlando terminal, only a few years old, appears sparkling clean with friendly, helpful employees. The food is fresh. Its grade: probably an A-minus. Schmieder is a tough critic.
``It don't think I've ever given an A,'' he says.
by CNB