Bus Drivers - The Curate's Egg Edition

I've had a completely strange day going to and coming back from work today.

After my latest tube debacle (see prior post), I decided to wait for a bus to go to work today.

On my street, there's a stop with two different lines: the first takes me two streets away from work, and the other line has me taking another bus (and I've got two choices of lines when I change buses: one takes me near the stop of the first line from home, and the other stops at a ten-minute walk from work).

As I arrived at the stop where I take bus #2, the nicer bus had just left, but the other one was turning the street and driving my way...

And then... I met the nicest driver I've seen in a looooooooooooooooooooooooong time. I hopped on, and:

Me: Hello!

The Driver: Hello! Have a nice trip!

Me: (blink, pause) Thank you so much!

The Driver: You're very welcome. Have a great day!

Me: (properly flabbergasted) Thanks! You, too.

That man was kind with everybody. It's simple; by the time I reached my stop, I wanted to give him a hug.

Just before I left that nice bus, there was an odd noise below the bus. The nice driver stopped, went outside to check if we were losing bits of the vehicle (after joking with us and asking us to not steal his bus, leaving him stranded). He couldn't spot a thing, but he tried several manoeuvres, commenting on the results each time, and everything worked. We were all smiling.

I felt happy on my way to work, and I was smiling like a Cheshire-Cat high on something.

To head home, I walked to the stop where the direct bus takes me straight back to my street.

Different plot then...

The bus arrived, and I hopped on and said "Good evening!' to the driver who answered kindly, and then... the Hulk got out. Traffic was hellish, and he drove as fast as he could when there were no cars in front of him; he honked to make cars move (because he was in a hurry), and he even used his lights at a red light to make a car get out of his way (because honking hadn't worked).

Then, the icing on the cake...

At one stop, no one signalled him to board, so he stopped slightly ahead of the stop itself, and he waited for people to leave the bus. Since the front door wasn't open, an old lady and a bloke with a bike boarded by the rear door. The driver got up and barked at the bloke to validate his card; the bloke-with-bike barked back that he was coming to do it, and the driver shouted that bikes aren't allowed. The bloke with a bike left the bus... as did the old lady who then walked to the front door that the driver had opened for another lady.

The Lady: (just at the door) Are you going any farther or is this your last stop? [in her defence, that bus line is properly nutty when it comes to stopping mid-way or changing route, and since he wasn't moving in spite of the green light, she did have a point]

That driver (small "d" on purpose): (ignoring her)

The Old Lady: I don't understand what you said.

That driver: (ignoring her)

The Lady: (boarding the bus) Are you going to the terminus?

That driver: (closing the doors and leaving the old lady on the pavement. Talking to himself) I always get questions. All day long... [Clue: that's your job, Cabbage. You're being frigging paid for that]

The Lady: (catching the clue bus, and not in the mood to let that bully get away with it) Excuse me?

That driver: I'm getting questions all the time.

The Lady: I just wanted to know if you were stopping at that stop or driving on. That's all.

That driver: Well, I'm tired of getting that kind of questions all the time.

The Lady: (dripping sarcasm) Well, excuse me for disturbing you. (walking away)

That driver: Well, I'm going home now. I'm in a hurry.

The Lady: (not backing down) Well, I'm going home, too.

*blink*

I sincerely hope the lady will report that bully to the bus company because that biped needs to be reminded that no one died and made him king, in spite of what he seems to believe.

If I didn't like so much the time I spend reading when I'm on the bus, I'd be sorely tempted to walk to and back from work - because drivers like the first one are so rare it feels like a dream when we meet one... The other variety is much more common, alas.

Ode to a Dying Species: the Gentleman

In fact, I've got a story involving a man, but this works for any person who hasn't been raised in a barn...

On my way back from work (incidentally, allow a sub-rant as I wonder why some people feel the need to complain about being given work... at work. Yes, that happened today with someone who whinged miserably upon being assigned a quick and simple mission!), I took the tube, and we ended up playing rush-hour sardines. I'm used to the occasional anchovy position.

What I am not used to is a tall bloke (I'm 5'2", so everything's relative here) holding the handrail by the door and trapping my head between the door and his arm. There were many people, but he could have grabbed the handrail in the middle of the car; he was tall enough.

Ah... but you see, that would have meant letting go of his mobile and stopping scrolling down for three minutes! *fake gasp* THE HORROR!

Now, I wasn't raised in a barn (and I wasn't in the mood to be arrested for kicking him in the hazelnuts), but I did all I could to invite him to relocate his annoying arm. Alas, my bun's probably too soft to make him realize that he was trapping me against the glass (Merlin! That never happened to me in Tokyo - then again, there aren't many barns over there).

Then, the gentleman to my left noticed my unfortunate position, and at the following stop he vacated his spot so I could move there and save my head and my pretty face from the Barbarian with a mobile grafted on to his hand. I smiled at the gentleman, and he nodded at the oblivious biped as if to say "Raised in a barn, what do you expect?".

The idiot left at the next stop, which he almost missed because he was engrossed with his text reading. The gentleman moved back next to me, and we traded yet another smile at the expense of the oik. The next stop was my destination, and the gentleman opened the door for me.

It's not a question of gender. It's a question of education, as I can perfectly imagine women in the roles of "the troglodyte" and "the gentlewoman".

There was biped "A" in a "Me, me, me!' moment and not caring about anything, and there was a delightful member of society "B", who had the opportunity to do something to make someone's life nicer for a few minutes, and who did make my life nicer (and perhaps saved someone's cashews in the process, too).

Merlin, I loathe mobiles and the idiotic bipeds addicted to them!

In My Empire...

... No Means No.

[I can (unfortunately) sense a series of post fitting this new "In My Empire" category since more and more things seem to confirm that, somehow, I'm the Empress of Mars]

So... Here's what happened at work.

This time, it's the "student" variety that floored me.

Last year, I had one group that was making me think that I was teaching banshees at some nursery school level. They were exhausting, and I spent too much time reminding them to behave properly (they're not children; I teach in college, and they're all at least 18).

And so, there was that student who kept being disruptive (I believe in convincing people to behave, not tossing them out, but I may have to reconsider with the new generation of gremlins students), and who never, ever did what I asked.

Six months ago, the student tried to convince me to reconsider and give a passing grade. Thinking, "when pigs fly and when plonkers ice-skate in Hell", I told the school that the student should be invited to take another class to catch up; I don't know what the school did tell the student, but that silly bunny still has one unit missing.

Over the years, I've seen all sorts of nuttiness when desperate students wanted to be given the units they hadn't passed with me (in my very first year of teaching, one male student made it clear that he'd do anything to pass - even if that involved some horizontal tango. I made it clear that he had to write another paper on the assigned topic - and YUCK! *shudders*). I've seen students beg or even cry.

This one... Brand new variety... Part mutant student, part arrogant plonker, part hopeless silly bunny.

Honestly... Sit down on something comfy, and don't slide off your chairs.

The student would like me to tell the administration that I've made a mistake. ME!

I don't understand people who don't face their mistakes and try to blame others. This person, as it is, has done nothing to deserve getting that unit, and I'm not going to cave.

Apparently, I'll have to go ask my colleagues in the offices if we're still on the same wave-length about our "parenting" policies with the students. I'm not their mum (Merlin be praised! If they were mine, either I'd spank them so hard that they wouldn't be able to sit until 2032 or I'd shoot myself), but I'll keep giving them good examples, and I'll keep the same rules so they have some stability.

More and more, I see people (not only at work) saying (for anything, and everything), 'Oh, but that's not really important. Let's bend the rules.'

It's probably my mild OCD that's giving me an allergy to that kind of laziness...

Now I'll have to trek to another building to see the reaction of the administration staff (yes, I want to be in front of them to gauge their reactions), and that waste of time is making me angrier.

PS: as I was typing my brand new "Empress_of_Mars" label, I thought of the series Bones and its "King of the lab!". 

Empress of Mars! ^_~

News from Mars

I think my empire is expanding somehow, because there are a few things that do puzzle me here.

I was recently talking with a student about education and opportunities...

Now, that student's reading in a prestigious institution and being offered high-quality education in a quite selective and limited field, and I must say that I was quite shocked when that person declared that everybody cannot study quantum physics because there's a limited number of positions for specialists in quantum physics. That (privileged) person was happy to see others kept in conditions where education's not a priority according to bipeds of the political variety (we were talking about other countries at the time).

Now, I do know that society can't work if 100% of the work force is composed of specialists in quantum physics. We need a bit of everything in every field.

But... would everyone like to become a specialist in quantum physics if given the opportunity? Strangely, I don't see this happening.

People have always been happy to turn to various activities for different reasons.

I fear that the "not everybody can become a {fill in the blank}" line is a pretty smokescreen for conservative people who do not want the masses to be given access to higher education (or elementary education in some cases). That gives me the feeling that the people thinking that believe that "Oh, that'll always be good enough for those people", and that's scaring me.

I just cannot believe that we'd get too many neurosurgeons, physicists, nurses, teachers, fishmongers, or whatever if education was promoted.

That feels like a political thing in favour of castes and classes. "Stay in your place, child"... Don't dream, don't change, don't try to get a better life. Don't use your brain too much, or you'll get in troubles (and someone will silence you).

I'll always be on the side of the Earthlings who want to learn and become better.

It was quite disturbing to hear such a young person (and someone who's been given a tremendous chance to become a part of a certain elite) be so heartless and bigoted.

Someone should study conservative DNA (or brain cells). There's something scary in the way they keep multiplying.

How odd (Work Weirdness)

Once upon a time, I wrote a post about my trusting one of my colleague to do the right thing with my classroom key.

Basically, I use my badge to get my key, and I use it again to prove that I didn't go home with the key.

Since the semester started, the man I trusted last year and two of his colleagues have decided to not take the two steps to the locker where the keys are kept (incidentally, one of them momentarily misplaced the key, and the teacher who needed the room after me had to trek to the administration to get a spare key), and every other time, they take the key, but tell me to not use my badge (if I use it, it opens the locker, and they have to do something or the thing keeps beeping).

Tonight... same thing. They took the key, but they didn't want to get up, and I must say that I find that really weird.

Perhaps they're mutating into squirrels with an addiction to keys, and they put them all back in the locker when they've gathered a certain number of keys.

Whatever the reason... That's really odd... and if there's another problem with my key in the future. Trust or no trust... I'll use my badge and they'll have to get up.

From the Plot Bunnies... with Love

In spite of a lot of DIY (that I really had to deal with) and of my being back to my rent&bills-paying job, I managed to keep tickling the bunnies.

I haven't forgotten the short story I promised you. It is written, but not edited yet.

My second story in my Muff&Sherly universe is about half-way through and it's already novella-sized. Changing the character who tells the story was a good idea as it gives the tales another taste, perspective, and kind of fun within the world that I'm building brick by brick (more "paragraph by paragraph", but you get the drift).

I'm having a lot of fun with that universe.

Last week, something funny (and weird, and inspiring, and lovely) happened as I watched again Mr Pullman's interview on the BBC DVD of The Ruby in the Smoke. I was reflecting that the fact that the two ladies who are helping Sherly and Muff and teaching them to be private investigators are wives may make a few people growl.

When the idea first came to me, I wanted to have one stable, loving couple, and the gals won that lottery, and since I know that "love is love" and cannot see differences in people as long as they don't bug me and tell me how I should live, that detail came naturally to me. As well, growing up with the tolerant world of Star Trek in my head, it was perfectly normal for me to opt for the only possible configuration for the happy couple I wanted in my story (that was basically going one step beyond the Trek message).

I've already written one novel with that "cast", and I'm half-way through the second tale, and I only realized that my "normal" may disturb a handful of readers, and so, when I heard Mr Pullman say that he doesn't write for an audience, I started nodding like mad. What happens in Muff&Sherly describes my hopes for the future, and if my two happily married lesbians disturb anyone, I don't care. They're good, lovely, and role-models. I'd like my readers to like them, but my love for them isn't proportional to their future success.

My fantasy novel is a chapter (plus an epilogue) away from its conclusion. After working on it for years, that's strange, but I'm about to give birth to a lovely story.

Geography provided me with details that made the plot better, and History was also on my side.

I discovered many things whilst doing my research, and the story was made much better.

I always have a "work" file where I keep the plot ideas I have for my stories. Last night, as I read again a few of my initial ideas for this story, I got to realize how much that plot had mutated over the past few months. It's a fascinating phenomenon.

Like many Fantasy stories, it's a big bunny, but I think it's smooth and flowing nicely.

That's about it for the plot bunnies.

I've got paint bunnies in the oven, but that'll be for another post (all the more since my current work is composed of five "scenes", and I'm just about to finish the very first one).

There you go.

Drusilla, over...

Mrs Hyde Update

I'm a tad late on my announced schedule, but in my defence:

a - why not?

b - I was writing

So...

Mrs Hyde's still out, and she's got a new look on things, which is rather interesting, if scary (for my inner Dr Jekyll).

It's astounding to see what some people will do in order to avoid having to work too much.

It's also quite fascinating (if quite depressing at the same time!) to see so many people not understand simple sentences. I mean, it's demented to see bipeds struggle with "Draw a straight line from point A to point B" (and I'm barely exaggerating!); ask them to follow simple instructions and watch them flail.

My former Dr Jekyll would have tried to help and find ways to be nicer and compassionate.

Mrs Hyde is expecting the rest of the world to use the purée passing for brains between their ears and to follow the simple instructions.

I'm building the pillory for the idiots who will fail to follow the simple instructions (my interns have been warned that failure to complete the simple missions I gave them - and trained them for! - will see them in the aforementioned pillory, in the middle of a very public square, during rush hours... which will literally translate with my reporting their failure to our bosses, who've been told that "second chance" has disappeared from my lexicon for good).

The coming weeks should be interesting (probably in a disturbing way).

More updates if I need to add tar and feathers to the pillory...

Mrs Hyde Was Freed

Once upon a time, I was nice, and kind, and forgiving.

That was my Dr Jekyll.

Oddly enough, a few knives in my back have allowed Mrs Hyde to escape from her cage (she's angry, but I don't know yet how vicious she's going to be).

Just a few weeks ago, Mother and my brother were telling me that I'm usually too nice. I wanted to believe that kindness was better, that giving people a second chance was the thing to do... Turns out that I was wrong if I consider that a handful of bipeds with whom I had to work tried to pin their own mistakes on ME (because I'm so nice that I'll take it and I won't say a frigging word... right?).

Well, well, well...

Dr Jekyll would have just protested and proven her innocence.

This Mrs Hyde has already proven her innocence, and she's planned what she's going to tell to the lowlife liars who've tried to take advantage of her former kindness (scene to take place in front of as many people as possible, because enough is enough, and I don't have carpet-DNA).

This is the beginning of a new era.

I shall share how Mrs Hyde's first promenade went by the end of the week...

I wanted to be a nice, compassionate gal, but those blades in my back were really uncomfortable, and now I'm reminded of: "You try to give another man a helping hand / He will take your kindness for a weaker stand".

I'll keep planning how I'll avenge, and you have some music: