Bus drivers are bastards

Ever since I was about twelve or thirteen, I have always hated bus drivers. Now, there are about three or four separate accounts of things that bus drivers have done that makes me hate them so much, and it's going to take a while to explain. There is a risk that as I relate these stories, and as I try to explain my unadulterated animal hatred for bus drivers, I may get so angry that I have an aneurysm and die, but I'll try not to let that happen.

I think why I am so bitter about bus drivers is because as a rule, they all view anyone under the age of twenty-one as the scum of the earth. There are no exceptions to this rule, I think it must be part of a questionnaire that all bus drivers are given when they sign up for the job.

So, what is your view of people under the age of twenty-one?

a) I quite like them

b) I am ambivalent towards them

c) I think they are the scum of the earth, and I will endeavour to be obnoxious and unhelpful to all of them, regardless of how much politeness and respect they give to me.

Congratulations, if you answered c), then you have passed the only job requirement for becoming a bus driver. It would be helpful if over the next ten years you could become increasingly miserable and condescending, but that is usually a natural result of being a bus driver, and hence it shouldn't be too difficult for you.

One thing that sparked off my disdain for bus drivers was quite a small thing, but it annoyed me nonetheless. I got on a bus once, I think I was about thirteen or so, and very politely (I honestly was a very polite young teenager. These days I brandish my Pleases and Thank yous more sparingly) I asked for a ticket. He printed out a ticket, and before I had the chance to say anything, he said “say thank you.”

This really irritated me, so in reply I said “I find that to be a very patronising comment. You wouldn't say such a thing to an adult. In fact you probably wouldn't even notice if an adult said thank you or not, so it is unfair to target a child out for criticism when you would not do so for an adult. It is mean and predatory; I am obviously of too young an age to retort your comment in an intelligent and articulate manner, and besides, I was about to say thank you, but you rudely interrupted me, now I don't think I'll bother, as you obviously lack the common courtesy that you wish to receive.”

But of course I didn't say any of that. What I really did, was I mumbled a sarcastic “thank you” under my breath, and then when I was safely out of earshot, I called him a dick.

Another incident with a bus driver that really made me angry happened a few years ago, I think I was probably about sixteen. I got on the bus and saw that my bus driver today was an overweight, bald man, who was probably in his forties or fifties. I asked him for a ticket, and in the most apologetic tone I could muster, I revealed to him that I would be paying with a twenty pound note. “Is that okay?” I asked shyly. “Grumble grumble grumble,” he grumbled, obnoxiously, and took my money. And as he gave me my change, he said to me, with nothing but bitterness and disdain in his voice: “get a haircut mate.”

As you can imagine I was slightly taken aback by this comment. I said, “with all due respect Mr. Bus Driver, but I don't really think it's your place to give such advice. Now there are two main reasons why it is not your place to tell me to get a haircut. Reason number one: you are my bus driver, and therefore not one of the select group of people who are allowed to tell me to get a haircut. Those people are my Mother, my Girlfriend and my hairdresser (and even then, when my hairdresser tells me to get a haircut I do usually assume that their comments are motivated by self-interest more than they are motivated by a general desire to see me have nice hair).

“The second reason why it is not your place to tell me to get a haircut,” I said, “is because you have no hair, and as a result, you are not adequately equipped to give hairdressing advice to anyone, unless you are standing in an American military training base, a Buddhist monastery, or a convention for Neo-Nazis.”

But of course I didn't say any of that. What I really did, was I mumbled a sarcastic “thank you” under my breath, and when I was safely out of earshot, I called him a dick.

The most recent incident that made me hate bus drivers even more happened when I came to Warwick University and I got on the number 12 bus for the first time. Now as you may or may not know, the number 12 bus runs between Coventry and Leamington Spa, and you have to put your money in this little box, and you don't receive any change. I didn't know at the time that you don't receive any change, so I got on the bus at Coventry station and asked him how much it was for a single to Warwick campus, and he said it was £1.60, so I foolishly thought I would just put £2 into the box and get 40p change, as thirteen years of studying maths would have me to believe. But no, the box took my change, and the driver dispensed my ticket, and I said “can I have my change please.” He just looked at me straight in the eyes, and shook his head from side to side (the conventionally accepted head gesture for 'negative'). In order to clarify the situation, I said “oh, do I not get any change? I didn't realise that was the case, being new to the area. I don't suppose on this occasion I could have my money back?”And this time he didn't shake his head, but he pointed to a sign above his head that said “our drivers have the right to work in an environment free from intimidation,” and he started the bus and drove on in silence.

Now, I don't know what it was about me that made him feel intimidated. But I took that message as a challenge, so I smashed through the plastic barrier with my face, ripped him head-first through the shattered pane, threw him on the floor and started stamping on his head, shouting “GIVE ME MY 40P CHANGE, YOU CUNT. GIVE ME MY CHANGE. YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE 40P FROM UNWILLING CUSTOMERS THAT ARE NEW TO THE COVENTRY AREA. IT'S NOT FAIR. TWO POUNDS MINUS ONE POUND SIXTY IS 40P. I DID A-LEVEL MATHS, IT'S NOT NOTHING, IT'S 40P. I HATE YOU. I WILL KILL YOU. I WILL KILL YOU, AND THEN I WILL FIND OUT WHERE YOU LIVE, AND THEN I WILL KILL YOUR MOURNING FAMILY, IF YOU DO NOT GIVE ME MY 40P CHANGE.”

But of course I didn't do that. What I really did, was I mumbled a sarcastic “thank you” under my breath, and when I was safely out of earshot, I called him a dick.