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Journey of the Damned
There are, I fear, few more pitiful sights than that of the commuter whose routine has been disrupted.
But since Bob Crow – arsehole in chief of the RMT - has called his members out on strike, the streets are once again full of confused stumbling zombies, their brains having shut down and their patience chips temporarily suspended. Liverpool Street Station this morning was swarming with armies of mentally-flatlining individuals who, in at least one part of the station, were taking solace in an attempt to create the worlds biggest queue.
When in doubt, form a line. It’s a terribly British response.
I am somewhat irked by all of this I must say. The militancy of Crow and his cronies always exasperates me since he comes across as a bullish, uncompromising and arrogant individual, drunk on the power that calling a strike regularly gives him. And in a television interview last night I really wanted someone to slap him one since, in my opinion, anyone who says “the reality is” as many times as he did probably has a very shaky hold on what they’re trying to define.
No, Bob, the reality is that what you’re calling for is unreasonable. It’s one thing for the current administrators to guarantee that they will continue to honour jobs and pensions during their administration – and quite right that is too – but to assert that they can demand the future purchasers (whoever they may be) do the same is utter nonsense.
Clearly no purchaser is going to want to take on a very publicly failed company without making changes, so if the administrators put such conditions in place you’d be bloody lucky to get any interest at all – which screws over both the tube network and also the Union members whose interests the RMT is pledged to protect.
But there we are, reason is a foreign country and so the commuters must be subjected to a cruel and unusual punishment indeed.
That said, my journey in today was relatively smooth. Admittedly it fell apart a little at the end when the driver of the 133 didn’t realise that due to a road closure there was a diversion, but hey. Somehow he missed all the huge signs indicating this and ended up having to do a three point turn where South Place and Eldon Road meet (confusing the hell out of a hundred or so zombies), before heading back along Moorgate, the London Wall and back up to Liverpool Street Station.
The only irritating thing was that having made the mistake and deciding to correct it he wouldn’t let anyone off despite the fact that we were all pretty much where we wanted to be.
I sometimes wonder if Bus Drivers go on “Bloody Mindedness 101” training before starting their jobs.
Posted on September 4, 2007 | Filed Under My So-Called Life, The World we Live In
Comments
Response left by Emma on September 4th, 2007
It’s Barbeque weather. RMT only strike on planned sunny days in the summer. I cannot remember them striking on a cold snowy January day. It’s often telling that our Union picket buggers off after 10am to go home and suffer in the garden with a drink and a hot sausage.
We really need to start some commuter strikes. Where everyone gets to the platform and then waits for three trains to go by before embarking.
Or mabye a commuter bus only day. We can wander around like zombies so we’re in practice. Can you imagine leaving the tube empty. Picket the gates of the tube to prevent the tourists getting in. Great!
Response left by Pandemonia on September 6th, 2007
I heard someone suggest that the best thing the RMT could do would be to get ticket people to just open the gates.
That way commuters could do their bit, it’s just LU that’d get hurt financially.
In the says of season tickets and oyster cards that’d be less of a dent I guess, but still a thought.
Response left by Rob on September 6th, 2007
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Well my day went with a lot less grrr….mainly because i didn’t even bother to wake up until 10.30am, and even then because an unruly child bounced a tennis ball off my bedroom window, shouldn’t they be back at school yet……or in a cage of some sort, not fussy.