Picture from 1900s
My recent blog about putting your arm out at the bus stop inexplicably grabbed more readers than usual so I imagined that everything had been solved. It was disappointing this morning when I arrived at the bus stop to see four other people there, all sitting down and not paying attention. According to the display the bus was due in two minutes, so I decided to chance my arm, so to speak, and ask the assembled commuters that important question.
"Who's doing the arm?"
Not one of the four people acknowledged me, one of them didn't even look up. Maybe they hadn't read the blog? Maybe they weren't morning people, more likely is that people don't like talking to people at bus stops. I can sympathise with this as I hate people I don't know, I don't even like it when restaurant tables are too close together in case I am forced to talk to someone. The worst kind of complete stranger is that annoying arse that tries to start a communal happening, in other words, the kind of complete stranger I was just about to become. As I was the last one there I didn't want to intrude by taking it upon myself to do the arm, but I could see that I might have to. Here's when I got really miffed, as the bus came into view I walked over to the bin to stub my cigarette out and turned round to be greeted by the sight of all four of them holding out their arms. I can honestly say I felt like crying.
This is why the world is in such a state, because we don't take the time out to sort things. I am as guilty as the next person because although I come across as difficult and grumpy it isn't really the case, the truth is that I am too shy and introverted to be that person. What I tried to do this morning was out of character for me, my stock in trade is arguments. While I can't get people to join in with things, I can refuse to get out of the way of pavement cyclists (I used to carry a box of drawing pins to drop to cause a puncture) telling them to get on the road, or have a go at people for pushing in queues, dropping litter or not clearing up after their dog. I even approach parents in the middle of shouting at their children in public with a polite "excuse me, can you direct me to the mother/father of the year competition?". Yet for all my bluff and bluster I can't get four people to nominate a designated arm-putter-outer for the bus stop.
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