Friday, February 11, 2005

Send Them Upstairs

We are, it must always be stressed, living in a city where politeness and an accommodating attitude is at a premium. It's also a city that is so expensive you'd barely wish penury upon your worst enemy. We are, in short,, aware that wishing the loss of one's job is a Very Bad thing to do.

So, we noticed (but cannot link to) the story on NY1 regarding an accelerated program of token booth closures on the subway. Too bad, we thought, that there would be fewer people to keep an eye out for straphangers.

And then we had an "episode" with the token booth operator at the Seventh Avenue subway stop. To descend into a whinge for a moment, we have an unlimited pass, and had to duck out again when we dropped something. Usually, and it has happened before, we explain our predicament, and they'll let us back in.

Not this bloated, lard-addled jobsworth. Nyuh-huh. She positively reveled in watching us stand around aimlessly for 15 minutes until our card would work again. The device, which prevents people from selling swipes of an unlimited card, is eminently reasonable. But then so is letting someone in who obviously not selling swipes.

Standing around for 15 minutes at least let us confirm that she is genuinely evil to everyone that calls for her assistance, and not just people wearing yellow T-shirts. Just doing her job, we note, but having enormous fun into the bargain.

And so, we won't wish redundancy on the gloating, evil old happypotomus. That's just not cricket. Let us just say should the rules say that she needs to be thrown out onto the street as a result of cutbacks, possibly with the loss of her pension and cake allowance, we will be able to stand there, allow a self-satisfied smile to creep across our face, and note that that is just the way it goes.

But, yes, we know it probably won't happen. The revolting old municipally-employed macaroni-dumpster performs a necessary function. How else might the otherwise blissfully pleasant Slopers summon the requisite levels of anger and nastiness to survive on Manhattan?

We would have taken a picture, but it is forbidden, and might have damaged the camera. Harharhar.

1 Comments:

At 11:38 PM, Anonymous Mig-Hell Sr. said...

To celebrate the addition of broadband to our rehearsal space I shall now lift my self imposed moratorium on posting. I had the same thing happen to me one day at the Bedford Avenue stop no less, en route to LaGuardia (was I flying out to a gig?). Anyhoo, I put my bags down and the fat bastard in the booth told me the same thing -- 15 minutes. I admire your honesty, I just waited until I could hear a downstairs train and hopped the turnstile.

 

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