Before departing across the big blue ocean, I spoke with my uncle who was a three-year resident of London several years ago. While he was enthusiastic about his experience, he forewarned me that it wouldn’t always be such. He said that my enthusiasm would wax and wane in three stages:
1. Fondness for the quaintness of the experience: Everything is new and exciting; even the crazy chavs you meet- so unique!
2. Distaste for the experience: At this point, you are over the newness of the experience. Things are more of an annoyance than a charm.
3. Utter affection for the once-in-a-lifetime memories: You have truly come to appreciate all of your bizarre experiences, lonely nights and amazing travels.
While I was sceptical of his forewarning, never thinking that I would ever reach Stage 2, I regret to inform you that I have.
It has been a work in progress over the past week, starting with last Wednesday. I was returning to school on a coach from having just umpired and coached my Year 8’s first lacrosse match. While disappointed by the loss, I was thoroughly impressed with their enthusiasm and determination. I finally felt like I was making a difference, and succeeding as a coach; it felt amazing. This feeling was short-lived, however. After seeing all of the girls off of the bus, I took a quick look around for trash (or rubbish rather) and left belongings, and then proceeded to make my way out of the bus. Actually, I attempted to make my way out the bus; I didn’t quite make it off.
After asking the bus driver to “Please open the doors and let me off,” as the doors to the bus were now closed, I was dumbfounded at his haughty response of “No, I will not let you off this bus until it is fully reinstated.” Wait…what?!? Confused I fumbled for words. I finally managed to ask what he was referring to. He impatiently started flailing his arms and pointing to the seats saying “These, all these.” I assumed that he was referring to some of the seat covers on the headrests that had come off. So, reluctantly and rather annoyed, I went to the back of the bus, where I was greeted with two of my pupils fumbling around the back in search of a missing cell phone. I asked the girls to assist me in the task, and they did. To my knowledge the bus was now reinstated.
As I made my way back up to the front of the bus, the bus driver quickly brushed by me. Not sure what to do, as the bus doors were still closed, I went to the front of the bus and knocked on the window to try and seek some comfort from my colleagues. I desperately tried to sign my dilemma to them in a series of body flailing movements. One of them finally understood, and went to open the doors from the outside. Relieved, I started to move towards the door, only to be greeted by closing doors again. The bus driver had made his way back up front and was in no humor to let me off. “I TOLD you you were not getting off this bus until the bus is reinstated.”
Now I was not only confused, I was pissed. I had just did what he had asked. Looking back at the seat covers, they were down, wrinkled maybe, but if that was the issue this man had a true case of OCD, or a controlling power complex. Knowing at this point that I was representing the school, and in front of two pupils, but still wanting to let him know that this was absurd, I said “Sir, I am a member of staff and would appreciate not being spoken to like a child.”
That was greeted by “A member of staff?” with a condescending chuckle, and an “apparently you have no control over the children.” I was livid and wanted to get off the bus, so I made my way back and started to flatten the wrinkles. Please note that this is not an over exaggeration.
At this point my colleague had made her way on the bus and seemed about as perplexed as I was. She asked the two pupils remaining why they were still on the bus. The bus driver took this as his signal to step in, and lay into them directly. He accused them of being “unruly” and “mischievous,” and argued that had they not been so insolent, the phone would not have been lost. Immediately my colleague corrected the fanatical old man, saying that it was of no concern to him, that he was not to speak to the children as such, and that she would take care of finding the phone.
The phone was finally found (it was wedged between two seats), the children proceed off, and my colleague and I were left dumbfounded on the bus with this pompous you-know-what. The conversation that followed lasted for half an hour. I only stuck around for half of it before storming off. I was told to “Behave!” My parting words were something along the lines of “I am twenty-two years old and a member of staff; this is absolute bullshit.” What a role model I am.
So that started my fabulous week of misery. An even more fabulous weekend of lacrosse ensued. I had a tournament both Saturday and Sunday. After a 45 minute bike ride to the tournament on Sunday I learned that only one of us had to be there. Mind you three of us went. NOT HAPPY. Add to that a very awkward, very uncomfortable atmosphere at work yesterday, and you are starting to see the trend.
My hope is that things will be on the upswing sooner than later. Actually, it’s my plea. Fingers crossed for the weekend!
Cat and colt 