Oh baby, it's simply appalling

Seriously. HOW. MANY. HOURS can these silly Office Workers From Hell spend discussing maternity leave, pregnancy, and colleagues' reproductive issues? Every damned day for the last year, they have had the same conversation for at least an hour. It's as though they have yet to figure out that women have been having babies and still getting on with their lives for millennia. One of them actually asked the other where statutory maternity pay comes from. Every time she spawns, it has always just magically appeared in her bank account, I guess. They reached a mutual state of being genuinely appalled that after 9 months (yes, 9 months!), money stops coming in. After a year, they have to leave their cushy middle class lives to go back to a cushy middle class job that has been held for them for a year, where they bitch about their coworkers and buy designer handbags. Aren't you appalled? I mean really, it's appalling. Something should be done about this.
I'm sure that their cleaners, manicurists, and personal shoppers and other non-salaried people that make their lives easier would be equally appalled. Never mind that most women in the world do not get paid by the state to stay home and take care of their babies for a year with a guarantee that they will still have a job to go back to when they are ready.
Yesterday was Groundhog's Day. Apparently so is today. And tomorrow...and the next day.

Poor Train Buddy 2.0

This morning, TB2 had a ton of work and an imminent deadline. In order to ensure that I didn't distract him, I sat at the other end of the carriage and had a lovely chat with The Profs.
About 40 minutes in, TB2 staggered down the aisle looking shellshocked. The poor man had found himself surrounded by the Office Workers From Hell. Their inane chatter is impossible to tune out. Even the most committed reader will find their horribleness seeping into his brain. Poor, poor man. Hopefully, he will make his 1pm submission cutoff and the OWFH will get stuck in a lift.

Light at the end of the tunnel

I am pleased to announce that Constance has a terminal illness. Figuratively speaking, but thanks for your concern.
I've accepted a job that does not involve commuting or public transport. It does require an international move and the upheaval of my family, but no trains. I gave notice that I will be leaving at the end of April. It now feels like there's a light at the end of the tunnel. I can't see it right now, largely because the train is stuck in an actual tunnel, but you know what I mean.

Abandoned

Just a little shout out to Train Buddy 1.0. He has finally done the sensible thing and moved to the city in which he works. I'm happy for him, and slightly envious of all of the extra sleep and personal space he now has. Perhaps I might start messaging him around 6am just to let him know when things are running on time or if I find an interesting story in the Metro.

Double the Pleasure

Somehow, I've had the pleasure of sitting with the office workers from hell (OWFH) *twice* today. They have featured in the blog before. This morning, there was some sort of emergency call coming out of the driver's cabin requesting assistance for a seriously ill driver impacting the route. We couldn't tell whether it was regarding our driver/line or not, because OWFH wouldnt shut the hell up long enough to hear what was being said. Apparently, this potentially grave situation was not as important as them prattling on about women they knew who had been pregnant and their maternity leave. I've personally heard them have this exact conversation at least 4 times in the past, so it wasn't exactly compelling. Luckily, Train Buddy was there to point out interesting stories in the Metro during our brief delay. Apparently it wasn't our driver, but hopefully whoever it was is alright.

This evening, they've spent 40 minutes being horrible about some woman that they work with who is constantly miserable. I bet the poor thing is miserable because of these vapid, cruel women. I'm wedged in next to Strongbow Guy and am seriously considering asking for a swig of his cider just to make this less painful. Oh wait. He's downed both cans already.

Office from hell

I think I've posted before about the horrible catty women (and one bloke) that spend an hour each morning vacillating between horrible management speak and talking tons of crap about everyone in their office who isn't present at that very second.

Last week, Train Buddy and I were subjected to a very loud and desperatly boring conversation about pregnancy that made it quite plain that these women were convinced they were the only people to have ever gone through it. They also seemed to be of the opinion that it was the most fascinating subject in the world for everyone nearby. It was even more excruciating than a previous conversation they had that contained the following terminology (I'm not making this up): Quality issue, expanding remit, systems and processes, quarterly report, feedback, involvement in the decision-making process, going forward.

But this morning, there was a tiny ray of sunshine. Apparently on Friday, they had been engaging in their customary shredding of co-workers. After sparing no one from their manicured claws, a man introduced himself. As their new boss.

Another nutter

There is another academic who has joined Train Buddy and me in the ranks of the daily long haul commuter. He used to sleep in our work city during the week. For some incomprehensible reason (lovely family, I think), he has decided to do the daily slog too. Until I come up with something better, he will be called Train Buddy v 2.0 (TB2). Train Buddy the 1st has been taking the insanely early train for a while now, eschewing sleep for a peaceful journey. I simultaneously admire him for this and think he's mental.

Yesterday, TB2 and I were comparing notes about fellow passengers. Turns out he also has been perpetually annoyed by the catty management-speak group and the bulldog retail rep. I think they will each merit an entry soon.

In the meantime, welcome TB2!

Blizzardy goodness

Earlier in the year, I learned my lesson about trying to commute in the snow: If the buses aren't running, go back to bed. I had several days where I battled to walk 3 miles along roads that hadn't been gritted only to find that the trains were canceled.

So this time, when we were doused with the largest snowfall in our area's recorded history (about 18 inches, much to the amusement of my Canadian friends), I just made arrangements to conduct everything via the web, including lectures.

Train Buddy, on the other hand, took the snow as an epic challenge. I last heard from him two days ago as he was battling his way across the Penines, probably pushing the train himself. Good for you, my friend. Now where did I set that mug of cocoa?

Special guest post

This morning we have a special guest post courtesy of Train Buddy. After two years of begging him to share his humorous musings on our often unfunny journeys, he has finally relented and decided to share them with everyone else. This is his take on the very same journey that I posted on earlier, but from another squished seat farther down the carriage. Enjoy! 

I really dislike EMT, and especcially this journey time. Those were pure weasel words. 
We apologise for late running of this service...due to being behind a stopping service. 
We apologise for crowding...due to unit failure.
It should've been: 
"We apologise for slapping the same BUSTED-ASS unit into service, and being completely bowled over by its unexpected internal COMBUSTION. We apologise that being forced to use the remaining working carriages (half that required) has resulted in PEOPLE PATE. That this might delay the FREE FLOW of people was beyond our comprehension. We apologise that far from being a RANDOM occurance, our general INEPTITUDE has delayed our progress such that we fell behind the slower STOPPING train and we are now free to be even LATER."   

Avenging in silence

This weekend was Halloween and I went trick-or-treating dressed as the Earbud Avenger. I didn't get asked too many questions, considering I had a homemade mask, a cape, and y-fronts over my leggings. My shirt was emblazoned with "Shh!" in a fetching fuchsia applique.

The spirit of the Avenger must have stayed with me, because tonight I was able to silence two separate offenders with a non-threatening, non-verbal request consisting merely of a facial expression. I didn't even have to use my teacher face. Maybe it was the Y-fronts I'm secretly sporting under my clothes.

What's your superhero name?

More than once in the recent past, friends have had the conversation about what superheroes we would choose to be (We are nerds and are fine with it). I've decided on mine and am acting on it.

I've become...[cue big announcer voice and some catchy theme music] The Earbud Avenger! She stops offensive music listeners with a single polite request!

Train Buddy and I tossed around a few costume ideas, but would welcome some sketches.

I've successfully stopped three offenders this week alone, saving dozens of commuters from the annoying dush-dush-dush sound of an astonishing array of really poor music.

Wherever there's an offensive twat, the Earbud Avenger will be there! Oh wait. Hmm. That didn't quite come out right. Slogan suggestions gratefully accepted.

Work nirvana

So, Thursday I had the perfect working day. I came home in a fantabulous mood because everything went perfectly. The morning bus and train were on time. I had time to stop for a decent coffee on the way in, and I got to make idle chat with Train Buddy and the Comedy Expat (AKA Manstruator) from the comfort of decommissioned first class.
When I arrived at work, I had meetings that I enjoyed. Don't blink. You read that correctly. I enjoyed 2 meetings. I'm not sure that has ever happened before or that it will happen again. Everything I touched that day was golden. Except for the train bathroom, but we won't speak of that.
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The Microculture

The commuter train is its own weird little microculture. There are rules and customs by which transient visitors are expected to abide.

There are also relationships that, much like a workplace, exist only within the confines of the train. People that have little in common are thrown together in less-than-pleasant circumstances for hours at a time. We each have our own little rituals to comfort us, like a favourite place to sit or a complex assortment of items to occupy us on the journey. Assuming, of course, that we have the luxury of a place to sit.

The "regulars" have plenty of opportunity to scope each other out and choose alliances. Sometimes, this is as simple as a friendly nod of acknowledgement or shared eye-roll at a late train or loud ipodipshit*, or it can evolve into a fully-fledged commuter team.

In this post, I'll introduce some of the cast of characters that are likely to reappear in future posts:

*IpoDipshit- name given to any one of the identical people listening to rubbish music out of headphones so loudly that the earbuds must be facing the wrong way in their ears. Also represented in gesture by a motion depicting strangulation by cord from white earbuds.

Train Buddy- the only other person on this route that goes the full distance. Cool geek that is my default choice (probably to his chagrin) for seatmate and conversation in the mornings.

Comedy Expat- after a conversation this morning, he suggested that he could be called the Manstruator, but that is a post for another day.

Ciderguy- always cracks a can of cider on the train and is an unlucky omen regarding successful journeys.

The cyclist - interesting council worker who apparently runs or cycles to the station each morning but somehow never appears sweaty or smelly. I think he just likes the feel of lycra in the morning.

Nescafe - never says a word, except for when he phones home to check in at exactly the same place on the route every day. In the evenings makes himself a hazelnut nescafe that fragrances the whole carriage.

The Verbose Professors- Profs A and B- often found in a pair- interesting chaps discussing abstract, irrelevant, and sometimes entertaining topics.

Shirt and Tie- quiet and fairly attractive guy that never speaks, but gives off a slight vibe of underlying jerkdom. Good choice of seatmate when I want to get my head down and work.

The Gaggle- loud group of giggly and completely inane uni students that assume that all aboard are supremely interested in their business.