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.

Travel etiquette reprise

It appears that the rules have not been circulated to all travelers, so it may be time for a gentle reminder. This sort of thing applies not only to trains, but also to airplanes, buses, waiting rooms, and anywhere that strangers are forced to sit near each other in confined spaces. Here are some of my top tips for trying not to be a traveling douchebag.

Selecting a seat: If there are other empty seats, I avoid sitting directly next to or directly facing someone who is already seated. When opposite, you take up valuable leg room. Sitting right next to someone when there is other space available just seems creepy and weird.

Conversations: Unless it's an emergency, don't bother someone who is working, reading, lost in thought sleeping, or has headphones in. If you have exchanged several looks with a person that indicate a conversation would be welcome (about a delay, the weather, or whatever), then try it. If the person is monosyllabic, just accept that pleasantries are fine and the other person probably doesn't want to commit to conversing with you for the duration of the voyage.
Space: I can't stress this one enough. The central armchair is a buffer. It is a divider. It belongs to neither person, and should never be used. The minute your arm is on that central space, you've taken up more than your fair share. If everyone used the outer ones, nobody would have the unpleasant experience of having a stranger's flabby, unwashed wool encased bicep in her face. Not that this scenario occurred for over an hour this morning or anything. If this does happen to you, I suggest a bit of passive-aggressive shifting of one's weight so that the armrest gets repeatedly bumped from underneath and the offender's typing gets screwed up a few times. He'll stop.
Leg space: When facing someone, either keep your feet to your allocated imaginary half of the space, or carefully and consensually negotiate the interlocking spaces to increase leg room for each person, but Do Not Touch the other person.

Seat space: I am an appropriate BMI for my height. Therefore I do not take up the entire seat. However, I have paid for it. I enjoy the whole seat. If you are too big for your seat, please do not feel that this entitles you to spill into mine. It is your responsibility to either pay for an additional seat for your other butt cheek, or spill it into the aisle and risk the battering of the trolley and passing suitcases. Your ass, your peril.
Hygeine: Bathe yourself daily and use deodorant. Avoid perfumes. You may love your rose and bergamot spritz and your jasmine hand cream, but I can assure you that nobody else wants to be oppressed by a cloud of your woodsy musk or floral tones. Wash your clothes, including suits and outerwear often. In a warm and crowded space, the smell of damp, of old cigarettes, old sweat, pets, ass, and general city smells is enough to make people hurl. Also, don't fart. Keep that shit to yourself.

Illness: Cover your mouth when you cough. Use the inside of your elbow. Coughing through the hole in your fist and then touching the table with it spreads germs. Blow your nose and then dispose of the tissue. That snarfing snot noise or sniffling repeatedly is gross and may just drive someone to start drinking at 8am.

Noise: generally, it's a good rule of thumb to simply STFU. Despite the audience in your head, nobody actually wants to be made aware of your existence when they are travelling. Get off the phone. Speak quietly to companions. If you take your earbuds out of your ears and can still hear the music, it's too loud.
Follow these simple rules, and you are less likely to be killed by some crazed academic who has reached the end of her tether.

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.

Commuting made me evil

I'm pretty sure I'm a jackass. I'm pretty sure I wasn't a jackass before I started this job and could walk to work.

This morning, there were two carriages and it was rammed. I managed to bag a seat at a table and get my laptop set up so I could work on a project with an imminent deadline. A couple in their early 60s came up waving seat reservations at me. When there are two carriages, seat reservations aren't honoured, but this fact is never announced. I decided not to do what old me would have done and give up my seat to the old people who are off to a day at the museums. New me politely refused, citing the lack of reservation flags on the seats. The regular commuter next to me did the same, which made me feel marginally less like a jackass. When did I become a harried self-preservationist? Once again, I thank you East Midlands Trains.

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.

Strange bedfellows

The poor man across the aisle from me has drawn an unfortunate lot this evening. Due to the- erm- rotund nature of the man beside him, he has been forced to overhang his binderful of legal documentation into the aisle in order to work. This leaves him open to constant collisions from the overly keen trolley guy who has clearly not met his daily quota of KitKat and lager sales.

It wouldn't have been so bad for him if Señor Rotundo had not been snoring at a decibel level that would require unionised workers to have been issued with protective equipment. Señor Rotundo is wearing a wedding ring. Either his wife is deaf or he sleeps on the sofa.

Working Guy caught my astonished stare and asked if I had a marking pen. Seemed a shame not to draw on Señor Rotundo's face, really. Alas, we were not properly equipped so Working Guy had to amuse himself by rolling cigarettes with his twitching fingers. Another example of a quiet evening spent devising ways of smothering the guy snoring away contendly next to you...

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Asinine

The travel mayhem continues. According to the web, it wasn't a
platform fire, but vandalism. Who steals a cable? And how does one
learn to do that without getting electrocuted? Do they sell these
things at car boot sales?

Luckily for me, I noticed a train that would get me home if I left
work right then. So I hotfooted it out the door just in time and
flopped into a seat just opposite a fellow commuter doing the same. We
are smelly, but we made it. Pity the poor souls who didn't check the
Internet in time or couldn't dive out of work an hour early. The train
is only half full, so I'm guessing that the normal travellers didn't
spot this new train on the schedule. Either that or they were so angry
this morning that they gave up and went home to crawl under the
covers. I wonder who's the smarter?

The Dining Car

So, I would like a dining car on the train. No, not a souped up version of the trolley with warm cans of cider and overpriced crisps. An actual dining car.

Linen napkins, waiters, a little jazz band. Poached eggs on toast in the morning and wine and cheese at night. It would probably cost about the same as my M&S habit and would bring a bit of class back to train travel. No electronic devices or BO allowed.

The train guys are bored...

Almost every day this week, the train has flashed up that it's late and then arrives on time causing panic. Train Buddy sends this report:

Yesterday was the usual giggle fest down on the farm/station. Arrive at 0610, train "delayed" till 0638. Then out of the blue, at 0612, came the "this train is ready to depart". You couldn't make up that level of panic. Metro's were abandoned, partially eaten muffins dropped, and staccatto swearing bulleted the air. Herd mentality spread like wildfire; 1st one then another passenger broke into a trot, then a canter, then a full-on undignified blethering knees-up, liberally sloshing hot coffee over crotches, swearing took on an air of pained desperation. We streamed up the stairs, over the walkway, down onto the platform and hurled ourselves at the train, wildly swinging elbows. A few missed the doors.

And then, as fast as it began, it was over. The train left quietly at the normal time, 5mins later, with the more rotund amongst us wondering if a coronary bypass came with the trolley service. East Midland Trains; "We're so punctual, we make even earlybirds crap their pants".

Suicidal tendencies

Suicide is selfish. It's also tragic. This post may be a bit
controversial, so of this is a sensitive topic for you, please don't
read any further.
On Wednesday morning, the train ground to a halt 10 minutes after
setting off. It was ostensibly due to points failure. I didn't have
any appointments first thing, so I was happy to muse on the beauty of
sheep huddling on the snow covered fields during the temporary delay.
Turns out that "points failure" was code for something far more
sinister creating hours of travel chaos.
If you're planning on killing yourself, please don't chuck yourself in
front of a train to do it. My normal 2 hour commute took nearly 5
because some guy decided to leap in front of a freight train. The poor
train driver and people on the platform had to witness the gruesome
sight of body parts everywhere. Thousands of people were late for
work, missed meetings, job interviews, and even had holidays ruined
because they missed flights. It took most of the day to sort out the
aftermath.
On top of that, it snowed in the afternoon, bringing other forms of
transportation to a halt. I left my house at 6:45am and didn't get
back until 9pm and had to hike nearly 3 miles in the snow to get
there. Neither a happy nor productive day. Thank goodness for podcasts
and fellow travellers with equally macabre senses of humour. We all
agreed that if the train hadn't killed that guy, we would have.

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.