My take on the humble commuter

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Last month I was accepted into a one-year course – Diploma of Business – yay!!!! This means that for four days a week next year I will take the train into town, followed by a short bus ride to the business college where I will be studying. (I’ll probably walk most of the time though – buses are expensive!) This makes me, in my humble estimation, a commuter.

I don’t know about anyone else, but commuters have a certain stereotype – at least to me they do.
Their day starts at 6am, when they roll out of bed as slowly as possible, and women don a smart business suit with a silky blouse. (Men just try to find a tie that wasn’t a Father’s Day gift.)
Needing coffee, they struggle downstairs only to catch a glimpse of themselves in the hall mirror. Oh my gosh! My hair!
Men have it so easy. They reach for their emergency brush behind the toaster, while all over the country hair straighteners are plugged in feverishly – I mean, the train leaves in 20 minutes! After a frantic coiffeuring of the cockatoo crest they seem to have acquired overnight, the girls leave the house with platinum blonde hair swinging jauntily, perfectly straight and unbroken due to a large amount of hairspray.
By the time the commuters all reach the station, they have perfected the calm, composed, businesslike look that will be their best friend for the rest of the day. Buying a hideously expensive coffee from the stand on the platform, they sip its lifegiving caffeine, glancing up and down the tracks at intervals through – in the females’ case – heavily made-up eyes. Somehow, the paper cup of coffee is always finished at exactly the right time, making it possible to daintily throw it in the garbage and board the train in one swift, fluent move.
Taking a seat on the aisle to avoid the glaring sun filtering through the graffitied window, they pull out a black folder that signifies their importance as an executive figure. Carefully studying a spreadsheet, they pull out of their handbag/briefcase the Up’n’Go they just had time to throw in before leaving the house. They carefully sip it behind the folder, careful not to let anyone notice them, always projecting a ‘Of course I was up in time to eat a proper breakfast’ look. All the other commuters were evidently up in time for a morning run and a good cooked breakfast – I must be careful not to give anything away.
Their composure, which seems so effortless, lasts until they arrive at the bus stop or taxi rank. Where is that bus? Have all the taxi drivers gone on strike? I’m GOING TO BE LATE!!!! Thoughts soon turn to words and oh dear! Didn’t mean to swear like that. Sorry, God. Hope no-one noticed. WHERE IS THAT BLINKING BUS? Hair starts to work its way loose from its styling as they fidget and make comments to no-one about the state of the public transport in this country. Government ought to do something.
The second commute gives them time to regain composure. They are smiling and inwardly groaning as they walk up the front steps of a Sydney skyscraper, no doubt to deal with ignorant copyboys, tyrants who call themselves bosses, and whingy workmates.
But that’s another story.

Hope you had a good laugh, and if any of you are commuters, please don’t feel insulted!

• 2 Oct, 2010
• 8 likes

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