The workplace. They operate by the seat of their bikes.Bike messengers work in a rough office - the streets of the Twin Cities.
by Allam Hannah
Minneapolis Star Tribune, August 6 1997
Bike messenger Amber Elandt ignored the "Hey, baby, can you giveme a ride?" comment as she pedaled past a group of leering men onher mint-green Bianchi road bike. After a solid year of that kind of abuseand much worse, she's used to it.
Elandt, 21, doesn't report sexual harassment to her human resourcesdepartment for a very simple reason - no such department exists. Her joboffers no health or dental plan, frequent injury and most likely the lowestcommission in town. For nearly 20 years, bike messengers in the Twin Citieshave faced the same workplace issues as Elandt. The 35 to 40 metro-areamessengers said they toy with the idea of unionizing but don't have enoughclout to make it work and worry about losing their job's biggest draw -independence.
These urban antiheroes come complete with tattoos, body piercings anda story for every chipped tooth. They also organize community service projectsand act as a family, providing food, shelter and bike parts to needy messengers.
Behind "Jesus Hates You" T-shirts and countless traffic violationslives a unique kinship circle.
"If you wear a business suit to work, you can go ahead and assumeI don't want anything to do with you. Until and unless you demonstratethat I should."
That passage is from The Multiplier, a local magazine for "couriers,freaks, combinations thereof." The skinny red pamphlet is one of themany forces that unite the always-evolving bike-messenger community inits scorn for "stiffs in suits."
As the story goes, bike messengers arrived on the local scene not quite20 years ago, a speedier mutation of walking couriers. Somewhere alongthe way, they became a family, although some would argue "counterculture" better describes them.
"They're definitely a breed of their own," said Dave Maddaus,general manager of Express Messenger Systems, who has seen a motley crewof couriers come and go over the years. Some have green hair, others dyetheirs to resemble leopard spots. Some couriers refuse to deliver to furcompanies because they worry about cruelty to animals.
"We had a satellite office downtown where we could leave packagesfor the messengers, but it was shut down about a year ago because it becamea kind of hangout for the bikers, even ones from other companies,"Maddaus said.
The shutdown didn't faze the closely knit courier community. They nowhang out in a downtown apartment they call "The Space," a pitstop for tired messengers that contains old furniture, a refrigerator,stereo, spare bike locks and messenger 'zines from around the world. Theywon't give The Space's exact location, although they say it wouldn't behard to find because there are usually dozens of bikes outside.
"It's like a co-op or a lounge," said bike messenger Chris(Crispy Corpse) Darsow. "You can sleep there on a slow day or usethe spare bike if yours messes up."
The Space is leased by Ellis (Eli) Wangelin, although all the messengerschip in for food, rent money and furnishings. Wangelin strays from thetypical twenty-something, college-dropout image of the bike messenger.He's 36 and holds a degree in criminal justice. For years he donned a suitand worked 9-to-5 at the federal Justice Department, but a car accidentabout a year ago forced him to give up his desk job because he can't sitfor long periods of time. He hasn't looked back since.
"I make enough to live on and enough to travel," said Wangelin,who now heads the Minneapolis Bike Messenger Association (MBMA) and sportsa mohawk "because he can."
"Money doesn't motivate me in this job," he said. "Thisis just a way of life that makes us happy."
Sharing is a central theme in the bike messenger community, Wangelinsaid.
"Outlaws, drinkers, smokers, sign-runners," said Wangelin,rattling off some messenger stereotypes he wants to dispel. "You neverhear about the bread, books and bikes we've donated."
Wangelin said the MBMA has helped charities such as Sharing and CaringHands, the Prisoner's Literature Project and The Bridge.
Bike messengers are not saints, Wangelin admitted, but they aren't thecurbside cowboys that their often tattooed and multi-pierced bodies mightsuggest.
Life in fast lane
Darsow, a self-described "walking scar," is quick to flasha chipped-tooth grin. Scabs and bruises peek out from the ripped sleevesof a red T-shirt and the bottoms of his baggy cutoffs. He knows it's agood week when secretaries at the offices on his delivery route look himover and say "Hmmm, no new injuries."
Like Elandt and most other messengers, Darsow can't afford health insurance.Sure, they all know couriers who have collapsed from hypothermia or whohave suffered from broken bones but, they said, they're young and lifeis full of risks.
Elandt is one of the four female bike messengers in the metro area.Her hair is styled in a blonde pixie cut; her face is makeup-free, andher body, dressed in cycling wear, is as toned as a professional athlete'sfrom biking 25 or more miles a day, five days a week.
Like most Twin Cities bike messengers, Elandt calls herself an independentcontractor. That translates into no insurance, no overtime pay, no salary.Instead, independent couriers get a commission that ranges from 45 to 65percent. An additional $40 a month comes out of their checks for pagerand radio service. On average, they earn about $300 a week.
"We don't get paid what we deserve," Elandt said. "Iwork a full-time job. Why shouldn't I get benefits for that?"
Bike messengers complain that lines get blurry when discussing whetherthey should be called employees or independent contractors. The state Departmentof Labor and Industry lists five criteria establishing who is an independentcontractor - specifically the right to control when, where and how workis done. Most bike messengers in the Twin Cities work scheduled hours,and some are required to wear uniforms. Those rules directly violate amessenger's status as an independent contractor.
Deric Peterson, systems manager at Street Fleet Bicycle Express, saidthe 11 couriers he supervises wear uniforms voluntarily as part of theirindividual contracts. Although he doesn't set schedules, Peterson saidBicycle Express has "hours of operation and the messengers work shiftsduring those times."
Bike messengers become invaluable to their clients with their skillto maneuver through downtown in less than 15 minutes, delivering documentsseconds before a court hearing or transporting an artist's prized portfoliounscathed. But of the seven courier services that employ the metro area'sbike messengers, only two, Metro Legal Services and Quicksilver ExpressCourier, offer workers' compensation and other benefits.
Metro Legal eliminates the gray areas by treating all bicycle messengersas employees. Taxes are taken directly out of their paychecks, they receivehealth and dental coverage, work specific hours and are required to wearuniforms and helmets. With regular pay of $6 an hour plus commission, MetroLegal's messengers earn about $10 an hour total.
Their system benefits both employer and employee, said Metro Legal dispatcherTroy Lockwood. In a company where nearly all the clients are located inupscale legal offices, complaints about messengers' scraggly appearanceled Metro Legal to start requiring uniforms about three years ago, he said.If the messengers were independent contractors, that wouldn't have beenpossible.
The other companies that use bike messengers don't worry about talkof the couriers forming a union to demand better wages and benefits. Thetactic has been tried in New York City and San Francisco with mixed results.In the Twin Cities, bike messengers are too worried about losing theirjobs to focus on that kind of concerted effort.
"If they were to attempt something like {unionizing}, I have around60 applications waiting in my desk from people who want their job,"said Peterson, a manager at Bicycle Express. "If we couldn't workthings out with them, we'd just have to start over."
Most messengers still think they get the short end of the stick.
"I'm out there whether it's 100 degrees or 30-below and my takefor each run is less than 50 percent," said Mark Sundlin. "Weenjoy the freedom the job gives but we'd like to see better working conditions.You don't want to get abused for too long."
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