Shut up and drive

On Monday I had to get a bus into the city centre for my morning lecture. This is a drag because most of my lectures are a five-ten minute stagger from halls, meaning that I had to get up earlier than normal, and worst of all, catch a bus.

Cardiff buses are weird. Back home in Swansea they use what  I assume is the standard procedure- you say where you want to go, pay the driver, get your ticket and take a seat. All is good.

In Cardiff you tell what ticket you want and then pay your cash into a slot and there is no change given. Meaning you need the exact money or to keep hold of your ticket entitling you to some money off your next ride. I imagine the bus company like this system because a lot of people will lose their receipt and fail to redeem it.

Anyway, the one supposed advantage of this system is that bus drivers don’t have to give you change, which they seem to loathe. Seriously, give a bus driver a note and they always ask if you’ve got change with a tone of irritation like you’ve handed them a riddle to solve. If I had change, I’d have given it wouldn’t I? I don’t want to walk around with pockets full of change.

So, there’s no angry grumbling from them for having to do basic arithmetic, so all is good, right?

Well, no, because you get assclowns like my driver.

I got on the bus and asked how much a single to town was, a fair enough question for a bus driver, I think.

“It’s £1.75” And then, in a voice dripping condescension and irritation “Like it says on the bus stop.”

I get that being a bus driver probably isn’t the most rewarding or enjoyable of jobs, but do the vast majority have to be such bellends about it? And is my question really that dull, I mean, I’ve never been anywhere else where regular buses post their prices on the stops. I mean, in theory, it’s a nice idea, but for the uninitiated it’s not going to be something they automatically do.

It was just the insulting tone like I was some kind of idiot.

I bit my tongue to stop from firing back a sarky comment asking whether it was his wonderful personal skills that had enabled him to climb the dizzy heights of bus driving and contented myself with firing a withering look which I hope conveyed my wish that his boys will shrivel up and drop off and muttered “Wanker” as I went to take my seat.

I actually said it pretty loud, partly because the guy needed to know he was being a wanker and for a slightly weird reason-

I don’t know why, maybe it was because I was tired, maybe it was because for the first time I actually had the normal Monday morning experience people and Garfield whine about (why did Garfield hate Mondays? He’s a bloody cat who does nothing, his life is one long weekend), but part of me wanted the guy to hear me, and have a pop. I just wanted a loud, angry argument with a complete stranger for a reason I don’t fully understand, even now. Catharsis maybe?

Whatever, after that Monday actually went rather well, although I’m glad I don’t have to do the commute again for a while.

Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO.


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