THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, May 29, 1995 TAG: 9505290035
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY MAC DANIEL, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: VIRGINIA BEACH LENGTH: Long : 112 lines
On the inside, Charlotte Rivas is an affable woman, warm and caring, who came here in 1990 from West Philadelphia.
On the outside, she's tough as nails.
She had to be. She was a toll collector on the Virginia Beach-Norfolk Expressway.
For three years, Rivas, now 49, wore a light blue smock and rolled coins, made change and tried not to let the driving public get her down.
Her job was one of quick exchanges, truck exhaust, heated quarters and the occasional friendly gesture. Her days were dominated by a blizzard of vehicles and impatient hands.
``But,'' she said, ``I would give anything to go back.''
Rivas and several other full-time collectors left the toll plaza for good on May 1 and were replaced by temporary collectors. Rather than losing their jobs, most of the former collectors were transferred to other state transportation facilities.
After Thursday, Hampton Roads will have no use for toll collectors on the expressway as the toll bites the dust.
Rivas now patrols the walkways of the Downtown Tunnel, dressed in Day-Glo-orange coveralls and a belt weighted down with keys, radio and flashlight. Despite her old job's drawbacks, Rivas and every former toll collector interviewed said they'd go back if they could.
While working at the toll plaza, Rivas' hands were filthy after an hour on the job. Attendants used hand cleaner to wash the mess created by the flurry of bills and coins that came from who-knows-where. There was blood on some dollar bills, and collectors often had to ask commuters to drop their quarters on the ground if they had been held in the mouth.
Most of all, toll collectors avoided Lane 8 like the plague.
Except Judy Christmas.
Lane 8 was Christmas' lane - the most profitable at the plaza because it was the cash lane - a nonstop day of breaking bills.
``It broke your back,'' said Jane Clore, a former toll collector.
Christmas, 41, who now inspects trucks at the Downtown Tunnel, loved it.
``That was laid-back to me,'' she said inside her new office, which holds a stool, a counter, a toilet and a microwave. ``It was kinda like a vacation.''
She has missed the work so much that she has kept in touch with the toll plaza daily since she began her new job. The temporarytoll collectors tell her that motorists are being extremely nasty as the end of the tolls nears.
Christmas has the usual horror stories - stories about people heating up their quarters before placing them in her hand, about being spat at, and about being yelled at for giving directions to other drivers.
That never bothered Christmas.
``There were some rude ones,'' she said. ``But if you treat the people nice, they'll treat you nice. . . . It bothered me if I was in a bad mood. But the majority of people weren't like that.''
Asked if she'd return, Christmas cut the questioner off.
``Yes, without a doubt. Without a doubt.''
Jane Clore worked at the plaza for five years and couldn't think of having a single bad day. Her lone pet peeve was people who, instead of handing her a coin, would drop it toward her hand, as if they didn't want to touch her.
``I don't know why it bothered me so much,'' she said. ``I guess it was just annoying.''
She now works in a small shack by the entrance to the westbound lane of the Downtown Tunnel. She is there to inspect trucks, checking their heights and keeping an eye out for hazardous materials.
She must also keep her eyes constantly peeled for a breakdown or accident. And like Rivas, she is alone most of her shift.
That loneliness is the main reason these former toll attendants miss collecting the tolls. This was a tight group of women who often wore matching outfits, cooked for each other and usually listened to the same radio station to compare musical notes.
``We were all about the same age, and we definitely were all on the same wavelength,'' said Rivas.
``It was like family to me,'' she added. ``But it's a lonely feeling now.''
Rivas said she didn't come away jaded from her old job - just a little more insightful about both the ugly and beautiful sides of human nature.
``This is a crazy world,'' she said. ``But it's also the world that you live in. People are just like that. They feel that this is money they have to pay to you and they take it out on you.
``But I didn't let it affect me. The toughness is in me, and I can't let those people run me out. I'll tell you off in a nice, subtle way, but I won't let you bring me down. That's just what it takes. You have to be hard to the core.''
Rivas looked forward to going to work. Coming upon the toll plaza with its ``Virginia Beach-Norfolk Expressway'' sign lit up, she said she felt proud.
``It made you feel important,'' she said. ``It made you feel good.''
As Wednesday rolls into the wee hours of Thursday, Rivas will drive home to Virginia Beach after her shift. She could be one of first commuters to drive the road for free. But she won't.
Instead of heading through the toll plaza, Rivas plans to get off the Expressway at Independence Boulevard to avoid the demise of her beloved plaza.
``It's kinda sad,'' she said. ``I just don't want to see it.'' ILLUSTRATION: TAMARA VONINSKI
Staff
Judy Christmas, 41, now inspects trucks at the Downtown Tunnel. She
has missed collecting tolls so much that she's kept in touch with
the toll plaza daily since she began her new job.
[Color Photo]
TAMARA VONINSKI
Staff
Charlotte Rivas, 49, was a toll collector on the Virginia
Beach-Norfolk Expressway. Now she patrols the Downtown Tunnel.
by CNB