Thursday, December 13, 2007

On a recent Monday afternoon outside Bridgeport's train station, an orange-and-white Metro Taxi cab became an impromptu meeting place for three cab drivers from two different companies and three continents. The men, none of whom would speak on the record for fear of retaliation by their employers, huddled in the car to tell their stories. They spoke of the exploitation of drivers—many of whom are immigrants from Africa, the Middle East, Latin America, the Indian subcontinent and elsewhere—by "greedy" cab companies, and state policies that allow for virtual monopolies and little oversight in the industry.

One of the guys, a small man with a Nike baseball cap and a heavy accent, sputtered with anger as he talked about the money deducted from his earnings each week. He got into a fender-bender several years before, he says, pulling a receipt from his pocket, thrusting it into my hand and pointing to a hefty dollar figure on the folded piece of paper. He was over-charged for repairs, complained to the company and was told that the charge would be removed, but—years later—it never has. He's stopped taking corporate-account or credit-card customers because he never sees the cash. "It's out of greed," he says. "They're killing the driver. It's extortion."

Like many of the two dozen cabbies I talked to last week, this cabbie would only speak on the promise of anonymity. After the circulation of a threatening letter and the firing of a cabbie who was organizing drivers, they say they're afraid for their jobs. "Trust me when I tell you," says one driver active in organizing, "they will snatch this cab faster than you can say Merry Christmas, and my children will not get their toys."

Metro Taxi drivers began organizing in October, spurred by discontent over the price drivers pay to lease their cabs, the perception that there's unequal dispatching of the highest-paying jobs, the 16?20 hour work days and a myriad of other day-to-day complaints. When a critical mass of Metro Taxi drivers gathered at Gateway Community College in New Haven early that month, they discussed the possibility of a strike and their desire to form a union. Now drivers have shifted their efforts from union representation at Metro to top-down, statewide changes in the industry.

They're calling for reforms that would make it easier for cabbies to buy their own cabs and for the state to assign an ombudsman to settle disputes between cabbies who lease their cars and the cab companies who own them. They want to see the state Department of Transportation break up monopolies in the industry that, they say, allow Bill Scalzi of Metro Taxi to have 161 cabs in the New Haven area, while the next largest company owns five. (Scalzi owns 19 cabs in Bridgeport and is the second-largest company in that city after Yellow Cab, which has 45.) The men, calling themselves the Coalition of Independent Contractors, have taken their case to the DOT, the state attorney general and the state's African-American Affairs Commission.

Though only a handful of drivers would speak on the record, it's clear the frustration among area cabbies is widespread. I've heard the same complaints again and again: The lease rates drivers pay are among the highest in the country (Metro cabbies pay $740 per week or more). Though jobs are supposed to be dispatched on a first-come, first-serve basis, drivers believe the most lucrative fares go to the handful of drivers who are fed jobs via cellphone. Drivers say they're charged for things they shouldn't be: for their lease on days they didn't work, for example, and for repairs that should be covered by insurance. Their contract says that weekly lease fees are due Tuesday at 3 p.m., but multiple drivers complained of being asked to pay earlier, and being charged a $45 late fee if they cannot. Some drivers end up owing the company thousands of dollars in lease fees, late fees, processing fees and accident repairs.

The company's management and administration is white, while the drivers are mostly black. Many are immigrants and some speak little English. The situation, they say, amounts to a sort of de facto indentured servitude: Drivers pay the company for the right to work, but keep little for themselves.

"We've seen a recent rise of immigrants who are doing this kind of work," says Ted Fang, an organizer with United Auto Workers, who worked with Metro's drivers on an earlier unionization attempt, "and they're being taken advantage of and exploited. If you look at it a different way, modern day cab drivers are working in sweatshops on wheels."

Scalzi disputes many of the drivers' complaints. He says his company investigates every complaint about jobs being fed to specific drivers. "In the taxi cab industry, that's usually the chief complaint, but in our case we've spared no expense to make sure that type of event never occurs," Scalzi says. He says that every call and computer exchange to the phone operators is recorded, that cellphones are prohibited and that the dispatch room is videotaped. When there's a complaint, it's investigated; if someone's broken the rules, Scalzi says they're fired immediately. That hasn't happened in eight years, according to Scalzi. Once, 12 or so years ago, the company fired three dispatchers in one day because they were working together to channel calls. It happens, he says, but it's rare and has consequences.

Scalzi also says that Metro has minorities in management positions within the company, including the heads of phone operations, the cashier department and dispatch, and three of five dispatchers. "Even if we were all white, is there a law against that?" He says that he hires based on who is best suited to a particular job.

Playing the Cars You're Dealt

The Connecticut regulation scheme works against the state's cab drivers. Most Connecticut drivers lease a cab from a taxi company. Who drivers work for is determined by the relatively few companies in the market. If their company charges exorbitant lease rates, a driver can't simply go to another company with more competitive pricing. In some areas, like New Haven, there's hardly anywhere else to go.

Because the company—not the cab or the driver—is "certified" by the state, every cabbie has to pay to work under a company's certificate. The drivers themselves are licensed (they've passed background checks through the DOT), but they're not allowed to buy their own taxicab and operate independently without a separate certificate. And while the DOT sets the meter rates that drivers can charge customers, they do not regulate the lease rates that cab companies charge drivers. As the lease prices go up, drivers can't pass the cost along.

Scalzi says his lease rates haven't gone up in four years. In Bridgeport, they're lower than Metro's competitor, Yellow Cab. The drivers argue that lease fees are already so high that drivers struggle to pay them and that Scalzi can't raise them any higher because it would force drivers from the business completely. Metro's growth has put more taxis on the streets competing for the same number of jobs. (In fact, drivers complain that there are fewer jobs, as many area universities and hotels have started shuttle services in recent years.) For Metro, there cannot be too many taxis on the roads, because Metro makes its money from the leases drivers pay—like a niche car rental business. But unlike Hertz, Metro has very little competition.

In order to own a cab in Connecticut, a cabbie has to apply with the DOT to start a certified taxi company and ask permission to operate a specific number of cabs. Drivers who want to start a company have to meet three DOT criteria and make their case in a public hearing. The burden of proof is on them to show "financial wherewithal" and good character (no criminal record, etc.). The real hurdle, though, is demonstrating that there's "public convenience and necessity" in having another company enter the market.

"I'm not going to say it's an easy process, because it's not," says Ken Gambardella of DOT's Bus, Taxi and Livery office. In cities like New Haven, where there are a relatively large number of cabs, "It's a higher burden for the applicant to meet."

Most cab companies in the state don't hire drivers as employees. Instead, drivers work as independent contractors. This arrangement allows the company to avoid paying for drivers' health insurance and other costs. It also means that drivers aren't protected by the National Labor Relations Board, the federal entity that oversees labor disputes. Independent contractors, unlike employees, have no right to collective bargaining.

Connecticut isn't the only place that taxi drivers are fighting back. Half of the 3,800 licensed cabbies in Boston have signed on with the Boston Taxi Drivers Association, which is being organized by Donna Shaw of United Steel Workers. Boston's cabbies haven't seen a meter rate increase since 2002, despite rising costs for gas, tolls and maintenance. Shaw says drivers' costs have tripled, while rates have remained flat.

"The industry needs to recognize that these drivers need to be able to sustain themselves, or everyone will suffer," says Shaw. "It's not a win-win situation to drive cab drivers into poverty and extinction. They can't sustain themselves and if you can't have public transportation through the taxi service, who's going to benefit from that?"

Shaw says that before organizing, cabbies had no choice but to accept a regulatory system that worked against them. "They didn't have a voice or an entity that had the political force and the legal force to address their abuses," she says. Since organizing, they've successfully fought the imposition of a flat-rate fare between Boston's Logan Airport and downtown that was opposed by drivers because they felt it was too low. Drivers from the Bridgeport?New Haven Coalition of Independent Contractors plan to meet with Shaw to learn from Boston's successes. Boston's drivers pay $85 per shift to lease their cabs, drivers in New Haven and Bridgeport pay $125 or more.

A Checkered Past

While Metro's drivers complain of making less and less money, the company's been growing fast. Since Scalzi bought the company in 1987, the fleet has grown from 15 to 161 cabs. Metro is now one of the largest taxi companies in the state. With its growth, Scalzi has solidified a virtual monopoly in the New Haven metro area and, according to drivers active in organizing, has exercised increasing control over the day-to-day workings of the cabbies' business. In 2000, he moved into the Bridgeport market and now has a fleet of 19 cabs competing against Yellow Cab, which had long had a monopoly in the area.

Though they're technically independent contractors, the drivers claim the company treats them as employees—dictating everything from which jobs they do to how much time they can take off. Nearly every driver I spoke to told me they work more than the 12-hour shift limit mandated by the state. Many put in 16 to 20 hours a day to pay the cost of the lease and keep something for themselves. Many have been working as cabbies in Connecticut for many years. Though driving a cab is one of the most dangerous jobs in the country, according to the federal Bureau of Labor Statistics, drivers say it was a good job. It offers freedom and, at one time, it paid well. What's changed the equation mostly, they argue, is not the economy or even the price of gas, but the cost of their leases and the types of jobs available to them.

Scalzi, who sits on the board of the Taxicab, Limousine & Paratransit Association, an international trade group, says that his lease costs are high because the cost of doing business in Connecticut is high, and that his drivers value their independent-contractor status because of the freedom it offers. Many, he says, take multiple months a year off and return to their home countries. They're only charged for days they don't work, he says, if they have the car or license (so that it can't be leased to another driver) or if they've paid for the entire week up front.

Metro Taxi's drivers tried to unionize in 2000, when a group of them brought a claim to the National Labor Relations Board and were rejected. With the help of the United Auto Workers, the drivers argued that, whatever their tax form may say, they are treated by the company as employees and should have the right to organize. During the hearing, Scalzi argued convincingly that the drivers were independent contractors, not employees, and were therefore not within the board's jurisdiction.

"We were disappointed by that ruling," says Ted Fang, the UAW organizer who worked with the Metro drivers on their petition. "To this day I still believe that—back then—the evidence was clear that the cab drivers were being treated as employees.

"Taxi company bosses have historically taken drivers for a ride," says Fang. "The cost of doing business is usually shifted onto the drivers themselves and the bosses end up having very little overhead cost."

In October, Antoine Scott, a 10-year veteran of the Metro Taxi fleet, began organizing drivers. Scott is unusual among Metro's drivers. He was born and raised in New Haven, joined the Air Force and graduated from Southern Connecticut State University with a degree in international business. He drives a cab in the winters and works as an event planner during the summers, organizing some of the city's better-known festivals. Driving a cab suited his seasonal schedule, he says, and unlike many of his fellow drivers, he made good money doing it.

Because he'd lived in New Haven his whole life, he had his own, consistent clientele. (Customers are allowed to contact drivers directly, but callers who don't request someone are supposed to be routed through the taxi's computer system and be offered to whoever is next in line for a job in that zone.)

When Scott held the organizing meeting in early October, it drew more than 50 drivers, and media attention, to Gateway Community College. A week later, his contract was terminated. Scott says he was told that he had failed to pick up a passenger a month before, though his trip logs dispute that. Now Scott drives for a limousine service.

Scalzi says Scott's "contract was terminated because of clear and repeated violations of DOT regulations" and that he didn't know drivers were organizing before the media began calling.

Scott calls Scalzi "inhumane" and says he's working to organize the cabbies because he empathizes with the desperation of many of the immigrant drivers. "The state of Connecticut could declare a state of emergency but you would still get charged for that day," says Scott. "If your car breaks down, you would still get charged that day. Last year, a cab driver got into a car accident and he died, but Bill Scalzi was still trying to charge this [driver's family] for the days he was in the hospital."

Scalzi says Scott is lying. "A statement like that is despicable. Not only did that not occur. We actually made a sizable contribution to cover funeral expenses. That driver was a good driver and a good friend and that loss was mourned by all."

Scott has filed a small-claims suit, a civil suit and a Labor Relations Board complaint against Metro Taxi over his termination. Though he's found another job, he's pushing forward with his efforts to reform the taxi industry.

Now a letter is being circulated by Metro's management. Scalzi acknowledges he wrote the letter but says he wrote it in response to news stories.

"I understand that there are rumors of a 'work stoppage,'" reads the unsigned letter. "It is my understanding that very few drivers support such action. In my opinion, a 'work stoppage' will not help anyone. We can expect that customers who are not served by Metro Taxi will contact other taxicab companies and not return to Metro Taxi." Drivers are warned that "Metro Taxi will seek out new drivers to operate vehicles that are not being leased as a result of a 'work stoppage.'"

Indeed, the strike option seems to have been dropped. Though many drivers have complaints about their treatment by Metro, few supported a strike. Drivers said that it would cost them money they couldn't afford and risk them their jobs. At least one driver said he sees the situation from Scalzi's perspective. "I'm business-oriented," said the cabbie, an African man who has worked at Metro for several years and, like the others, asked not to be named. "If you're going to start a business, what you're looking at is how you're going to make a profit."

Being a cabbie is hard work, he explained, but not all of the drivers are hard-working. "They should be doing everything they can to make sure they make money."

What does he do that the other drivers don't? "When your job is to drive," he says, "your job is not to park the car," explaining that many cabbies don't drive around town looking for fares, but wait outside the train station in the cab stand.

Two other drivers I spoke to, at the request of Scalzi, also supported their boss. "If you're lazy, it's not his fault," said Mohsen Hussein. "Yeah, we have problems, but he fix it," said Ben Bhatia, "The boss takes things really, really seriously."

Antoine Scott explains that there are economic reasons for the differences in technique: Waiting in the cab stand ensures that, even if it takes an hour, a driver will eventually get a job. Driving around town costs money and there's no guarantee of work.

Instead they've been quietly organizing. Last week, a group of drivers met in an opulent hearing room at the state Capitol, where they asked the African-American Affairs Commission, a quasi-governmental group that advocates for issues impacting the state's black community, for help.

Jim Harris was one of the drivers who spoke. He has worked for Metro Taxi since before Bill Scalzi bought the company. Originally, he said, it was a union shop—represented by the Teamsters. But when Scalzi bought it he made the drivers independent contractors, effectively dissolving the union. Scalzi quibbles: He says he didn't buy the company, he bought the certificate. Many of the previous company's drivers migrated to Metro, he says, where they were hired as independent contractors. He's not sure if they were unionized before. "I think so," he says.

Harris, unlike many of the drivers I spoke to, is considered an "owner-operator." He paid $37,000 to Scalzi to buy his cab. But Harris doesn't hold title to his car (it's registered to Metro, because they have the state taxi certificate) and he still has to pay a weekly lease fee to Scalzi of more than $500, including insurance.

Harris testified that Scalzi refused to refund his lease payment for two days that Harris didn't work in early November. Harris says he was told that because he's an owner-operator and not a lease driver, he can only take two weeks a year off. Scalzi says the driver's contract says there are two weeks a year that they don't have to pay lease fees or associated costs, but that if they want more time than that, they simply have to turn in their license plates, so that they can be used on another vehicle. According to Scalzi, Harris is currently not working and has deposited his plate until mid-December. I could find no explicit mention, however, of the two weeks per year stipulation in the Harris contract, which he provided. When I offered the contract to Scalzi, to show me where the passage is, he declined to review it. "I'm sure it's there," he said.

At the end of the hearing, the chair of the Commission, Michael A. Jefferson, pledged his support to the drivers and promised help. "We heard you," he told Scott, "and we're not going to let you down."