While I was in the midst of my (initial) raging argument with Greyhound person about my having printed my ticket double sided (she said they only accepted single-sided printing and I would have to buy another ticket because I'd printed mine double-sided), I realized a couple of things:
1. I usually use c..t (gender-neutral) when swearing to myself/about others. But I didn't want to use it to the woman since (and this is an effect of age I feel) I was rather rational/quite calm and processing my (limited) options while arguing with her and I know its usage in the US context has a different meaning than in Australia (or on British TV/films).
2. I didn't want to call her a f..king b...h either. Mainly because both of those are things I rather like and would prefer not to use them on someone I definitely don't like.
Leaving these aside, there are very few words that can then be used as swear words. I made do with shit filled bag of flesh, pox-marked face that would lead a blind man to be grateful, you look like you can't waddle out the door, etc etc (you get the gist. I'm not happy with myself and apparently my swearing vocabulary is stuck in the Victorian era) but none of these has the zing of a mother......g b...h that any other person in my situation would have used with ease.
I suppose it's a limitation of language that I can swear to myself but not when I needed to. I feel a good swear would have made me less pissed off with the world on the whole. Now, I've started looking at middle-aged frumpy-ish women with suspicion*, sure that at any time they will come up with some ridiculous reason for me not being able to do something.
* Maybe there's a conspiracy? Today, I was at Borders buying some books from one of their soon to be closed shops. The lady at the counter--middle aged and frumpy-ish--said I couldn't use my coupon for one of the books. She then proceeded to point out where that was specified on the coupon and, looking at me, slowly and loudly read it out. When I told her I didn't want the book after all, she looked at me and said, "You look puzzled. Let me explain this for you" and proceeded to repeat all of what she had just said. She also pointed out how much (in percentage and in actual cash) I'd saved when ringing up each of my purchases. I must admit I've added this incident to my file of "middle aged frumpy-ish women are out to get me".
6.3.11
And yet another one (Liverpool 3 Man Utd 1)
Yup. On a grey, rainy morning in DC, this happened. Could easily have been four or five to Liverpool. It was possibly the only time Arsenal fans were cheering on Liverpool.
5.3.11
A solid up yours to the Old Enemy
The cricket world cup is going on in "my" part of the world. A few days ago, this happened. I didn't get to post it since I was in the midst of 12-hr days of interviewing but I just watched it again and realized this is one of those moments which make me grin. Even when I knew what would happen (and from 111-5 to this!), it's still fantastic.
A few more thoughts
Now that I'm awake, have garnered sympathy from friends and family and am about to leave my apartment to have a good breakfast in my 'hood, the less dramatic version of the end of story is that I had Three (yes, THREE) forms of ID (university card which states I am faculty, my passport, my expired drivers permit) and I was waving them all around while I was telling the woman she was being un-Christian. I think she knew she was in the wrong and gave in.
To put things in context, apart from an over $500 air trip home, there was no other public transport option to leave this City. Hence option a) in my list. The Place, on the other hand, has an excellent bus service to DC (not Greyhound) but I'd decided to leave from the City so I could see a bit more of the area and explore. I suppose all this is an incentive to get my drivers' licence and start driving to places but I feel there's a long rant about how the "underclass" in this country (aka those who ride Greyhound) are treated and a Foucauldian analysis of the production of dangerous/"attitude"-ridden bodies (and those who categorize them) is waiting to be written. At least I got to go home--a lot of others didn't since the buses were routinely filled up/there were no spaces left. A young lad almost committed violence in Another City when he was told he couldn't get on the bus because a family had priority. Lad was about 20 years old (maybe?) and travelling alone and had been waiting for over 5 hours. The family had got to the station about 10 minutes ago.
To put things in context, apart from an over $500 air trip home, there was no other public transport option to leave this City. Hence option a) in my list. The Place, on the other hand, has an excellent bus service to DC (not Greyhound) but I'd decided to leave from the City so I could see a bit more of the area and explore. I suppose all this is an incentive to get my drivers' licence and start driving to places but I feel there's a long rant about how the "underclass" in this country (aka those who ride Greyhound) are treated and a Foucauldian analysis of the production of dangerous/"attitude"-ridden bodies (and those who categorize them) is waiting to be written. At least I got to go home--a lot of others didn't since the buses were routinely filled up/there were no spaces left. A young lad almost committed violence in Another City when he was told he couldn't get on the bus because a family had priority. Lad was about 20 years old (maybe?) and travelling alone and had been waiting for over 5 hours. The family had got to the station about 10 minutes ago.
4.3.11
When I call upon God (and not in vain)
Back from The Place and the interview. I guess I won't be writing about the interview itself but there will be some posts on impressions, clothing and my inability to maintain the "serious" facade (despite a sternly pencilled warning on my hand) more than half a day. Ah well. After what happened today, I don't think I ever want to leave the city. Here's what happened (in short since I am quite sleepy):
At the Greyhound station in City near Place, I show my ticket and am told I need two copies. I mention that nowhere does it say I need two copies and that my bus is leaving in 30 minutes. No, you have to have two copies, I"m told. Well, I have the confirmation number, can you print me another copy? I ask. No is the answer. Go to the library (6 blocks away) and print the copies, the Greyhound person says.
I run. Both ways. Library staff are superb (as librarians tend to be) and properly sympathetic to my plight. I may have converted them to never using Greyhound ever again. I get back to the station with a couple of minutes to spare.
Show me your ticket and ID, says the Greyhound official (to be called GO from now on)
Why? I ask since I'd already shown the original copy earlier.
I need to make sure they are yours, GO says.
I decide it's not worth the hassle to argue and show my newly printed ticket to her.
GO: Well, this didn't hurt did it?
Me: it could have been avoided if you had been flexible
Go: you need to learn the rules. There are rules in this country. You are not in college anymore where anything goes.
Me: I"m not in college and I know there are rules. I'm just saying the rules here did not state there had to be two copies.
Go: Well, no one's dead...
me: yet.
Go: What? Are you threatening me? Don't give me that attitude. What did you just say?
me: I said no one's dead yet. Which is true for this specific spot at this moment.
Go: I"m calling the police
And she did! There was a policeman loitering outside and was called in to join the action. After GO's explanations for what had happened and how I had threatened her, she turns to me and asks for ID. I show her my passport.
Go: Oh you can't get on the bus anyway. This isn't real.
Me: What? Of course it's real
Go: You need a government ID
Me: It is) a government issued ID. It is a passport.
Go: I've never seen a passport like this.
Me: Well, it is. You can see my information there. I also have my faculty card (I show her my uni card)
Go: No, this won't do. I need your birthdate
Me: Why? It says picture ID. Why do I need my birthdate on it?
GO: Again, don't give me attitude. I don't let people with attitude on my buses. You can go sit there (points to sitting area. There are no free seats)
Me: So I can't go?
Go: No, there is no getting on the bus without ID.
Me: But I have ID. I have more than one ID.
Go: A valid picture ID that I recognize.
At this point, I realized my options were a) take the local bus back to The Place and try wait for a seat on the (awesome) Place to DC bus I'd taken down there.
b) argue some more and call her a f...ing sh..e-filled bag of flesh (amongst other things). That would be true but unlikely to help me leave the place or
c) Do something crazy based on my hypothesis of this area.
I think this week and the general understanding that I broke all the rules of interviewing and yet had a really good time decided upon my pick of c). So then this happened:
I waved my ticket around, held up my uni ID and went: I really need a seat on the bus and you know I should get it because I have done nothing wrong. I have my ID and I have my ticket. The Lord will judge you (I said "God" first and then realized that "God" could mean my little brown God while I wanted the Guy with the White Beard to show up in her memory) for what you have done today. Did Jesus not say to be a good Samaritan? To help those who can't help themselves? Is this what you are doing here? You know I have ID. You can see it (wave around so people sitting can see too). Please let me on the bus. As a good Christian, you should not hold anger...(and repeat)
It was a performance of a lifetime. It was a performance that the Regular Me would not have ever done. It was a performance that worked since, after some more repetition of Jesus seeing what she had done and judging her for it, I had a seat on the bus.
And, yes, 99% of the people I met were lovely. But there's always the one crazy bugger (or the female equivalent thereof, in my case)
Now I am in my apartment and I may never leave it again.
At the Greyhound station in City near Place, I show my ticket and am told I need two copies. I mention that nowhere does it say I need two copies and that my bus is leaving in 30 minutes. No, you have to have two copies, I"m told. Well, I have the confirmation number, can you print me another copy? I ask. No is the answer. Go to the library (6 blocks away) and print the copies, the Greyhound person says.
I run. Both ways. Library staff are superb (as librarians tend to be) and properly sympathetic to my plight. I may have converted them to never using Greyhound ever again. I get back to the station with a couple of minutes to spare.
Show me your ticket and ID, says the Greyhound official (to be called GO from now on)
Why? I ask since I'd already shown the original copy earlier.
I need to make sure they are yours, GO says.
I decide it's not worth the hassle to argue and show my newly printed ticket to her.
GO: Well, this didn't hurt did it?
Me: it could have been avoided if you had been flexible
Go: you need to learn the rules. There are rules in this country. You are not in college anymore where anything goes.
Me: I"m not in college and I know there are rules. I'm just saying the rules here did not state there had to be two copies.
Go: Well, no one's dead...
me: yet.
Go: What? Are you threatening me? Don't give me that attitude. What did you just say?
me: I said no one's dead yet. Which is true for this specific spot at this moment.
Go: I"m calling the police
And she did! There was a policeman loitering outside and was called in to join the action. After GO's explanations for what had happened and how I had threatened her, she turns to me and asks for ID. I show her my passport.
Go: Oh you can't get on the bus anyway. This isn't real.
Me: What? Of course it's real
Go: You need a government ID
Me: It is) a government issued ID. It is a passport.
Go: I've never seen a passport like this.
Me: Well, it is. You can see my information there. I also have my faculty card (I show her my uni card)
Go: No, this won't do. I need your birthdate
Me: Why? It says picture ID. Why do I need my birthdate on it?
GO: Again, don't give me attitude. I don't let people with attitude on my buses. You can go sit there (points to sitting area. There are no free seats)
Me: So I can't go?
Go: No, there is no getting on the bus without ID.
Me: But I have ID. I have more than one ID.
Go: A valid picture ID that I recognize.
At this point, I realized my options were a) take the local bus back to The Place and try wait for a seat on the (awesome) Place to DC bus I'd taken down there.
b) argue some more and call her a f...ing sh..e-filled bag of flesh (amongst other things). That would be true but unlikely to help me leave the place or
c) Do something crazy based on my hypothesis of this area.
I think this week and the general understanding that I broke all the rules of interviewing and yet had a really good time decided upon my pick of c). So then this happened:
I waved my ticket around, held up my uni ID and went: I really need a seat on the bus and you know I should get it because I have done nothing wrong. I have my ID and I have my ticket. The Lord will judge you (I said "God" first and then realized that "God" could mean my little brown God while I wanted the Guy with the White Beard to show up in her memory) for what you have done today. Did Jesus not say to be a good Samaritan? To help those who can't help themselves? Is this what you are doing here? You know I have ID. You can see it (wave around so people sitting can see too). Please let me on the bus. As a good Christian, you should not hold anger...(and repeat)
It was a performance of a lifetime. It was a performance that the Regular Me would not have ever done. It was a performance that worked since, after some more repetition of Jesus seeing what she had done and judging her for it, I had a seat on the bus.
And, yes, 99% of the people I met were lovely. But there's always the one crazy bugger (or the female equivalent thereof, in my case)
Now I am in my apartment and I may never leave it again.
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