Waste Managers
Local Garbage Carters Give Hometown Touch to Trash Hauling
By: Melissa Ostrow
For: Long Island Press
View Original Article
The National Waste Services truck slowly works its way down the residential street. At each house, Rob "Scoop" Szczepanski, 38, of Bay Shore, and Victor Fuentes, 25, of Brentwood, jump off the back, pick up the cans and empty them into "the hopper," the large compactor on the back of the truck.
Fuentes, Szczepanski and driver Jimmy DiPalma, 52, work for National Waste Services, LLC, a local sanitation company that picks up the garbage for several Brookhaven districts and Roslyn. National is one of many small, locally owned and managed garbage-carting services, all of which fight hard for contracts and customers.
Every weekday morning, DiPalma is at work by 4:30 a.m. By 5 a.m., he and his helpers, or "flippers," as they call them in the sanitation biz, have picked up their coffee and cinnamon buns and are on their route in Stony Brook. They'll knock off at about 4:30 p.m, after picking up the garbage from 1,200 homes. Their efforts often go unnoticed, but these are the warriors on the front lines of the daily battle to clean up Long Island.
"Some think it is like magic: They put [garbage] out and it disappears. As long as it keeps disappearing, they're happy," says DiPalma. However, if the trash doesn't disappear or a can shows up missing, customers complain to town officials, who call the boss. Common complaints range from garbage left on the curb (often because the container is metal or the customer put it out too late), to broken or misplaced cans.
With each resident's complaint being logged by the town, customer satisfaction is very important to Richard and Joseph Leone, the owners of the 2-year-old company. Small touches, like replacing a customer's garbage can, and quick management decisions separate them from the larger national companies in the bid process, says Richard Leone, whose company is paid about $8 to $9 by the town, per house per month, to come three times a week. That's about what most small companies receive. "Nobody is getting rich off that rate," says John Seyfert, dispatcher for National Waste.
Unlike National Waste, large companies such as Waste Management can often be more flexible in pricing to win contracts. "Larger companies will take a loss to win a bid. It is harder for smaller companies to do this," says Carol Fearns, chief operating officer of the Solid Waste Association of North America. She adds, on the other hand, that "smaller companies are very motivated to give good service and are much more involved in the day-to-day activities. They are able to make changes much more quickly than a larger hauler."
DiPalma, Szczepanski and Fuentes know where the little old ladies on their route live, and as a courtesy take the garbage from the side of their houses, instead of making them drag it to the curb. They pick up knocked-over cans and trash scattered by local wildlife, even though this is not required. DiPalma has even been known to swing back at the end of the day to pick up garbage for residents who were late getting the can to the curb.
The men often have to overlook when residents aren't good customers and break the few simple rules: trash on the curb by pickup time; no more than 50 pounds per can; only four bulk items and no metal. Customers also occasionally slip in glass or chemicals. Often, the sulfur smell of rotten eggs or a cut hand are the first indication that something improper is in the container. "It's like everything else in the world: Some people are considerate and some people aren't," says DiPalma. Around Christmas, the guys receive tips and gifts; they often find that it is those with nicer homes who give less.
Many residents wave as they walk their dogs in the morning, and on hot steamy days, it is not unusual for the guys to find bottles of water on the curb. "They're here when they have to be," says David Smith of Stony Brook, a customer on DiPalma's route. A few residents even greet the guys with beers (which they save for after work)-though DiPalma questions what people think of his team, bringing them beers at 8 a.m. Residents have even offered the workers a swim in their pool. "The longer you are there, the more you become a part of the community," says DiPalma.
The garbage itself can be interesting, too. Around hunting season, workers regularly find deer heads and hooves, jokingly called "Bambi-in-a-can" by the workers. The worst thing the men can find in the garbage is a dead body. Though that doesn't happen often, when it does, work stops and everything becomes evidence until the investigation is over, says Fearns. But there are good finds, too. The men occasionally find stereo equipment or televisions in working condition. They call it "hopper shopping." DiPalma's son once found $1,600 in cash.
These finds are nothing new, because over the years garbage hasn't really changed, except that there's less of it as a result of recycling. "When [we] first started doing recycling, we would just drive down the road [because no one recycled]. Now, people are really getting into it," says DiPalma.
By 11 a.m., half the route is done and the truck is full, ready to be emptied at the Brookhaven Town Waste Management Facility in Yaphank, about 45 minutes away. A trash mountain is concealed under a grassy hill, but the stench and seagulls give it away. The truck backs into a sort of airplane hangar, and with one pull of a lever, regurgitates its 12 to 15 tons of garbage, which will either be taken to an incinerator to be burned and then to an ash dump, or shipped out of state to Pennsylvania, New Jersey or Virginia. Long Island no longer allows garbage dumps.
With the nasty smells, the strenuous work and the occasional critical customer, it's a wonder these guys do it. DiPalma thinks most guys get into it when they are young because they think it is good money and just stay. He's been working at it for 25 years. Helpers start out at a base rate of about $500 weekly and drivers at $700 a week, with paid medical insurance and a 401K plan. Rich Leone says that as the men gain seniority, he encourages them to apply for a Commercial Driver's License. "I try to advance them as soon as possible because I want drivers," he says. Helpers are easy to come by, but not qualified drivers with clean records.
If anything, it's a solid job, as there is always garbage. DiPalma likes the driving. Nobody bothers him, and he can sit back and listen to his country music. "It's like being a cowboy," he says. "Go out on a range and come back at the end of the day."
