Station Stories

everyday stories

Trial of an ex-Metro employee.

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http://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-06-01/nicholas-archer-pleads-guilty-to-train-derailment-sabotage/7467344

Bad luck for Metro and the CFA! Glad they finally caught this guy.

Metro has around 3500 employees and in that number there are sure to be a few bad eggs that make you look suspiciously at the rest of the carton.  Most of my workmates are lovely highly decent people.

HOWEVER …

My first week at my first station a man rang and asked for X.  I’d never heard of X so I asked my station master who took the call.  After he hung up he told me that X was no longer working for us.  He was in jail having held up 8 service stations!

“Startling” news when you are just fresh out of working in libraries, where assigning the wrong Dewey number is the worst offence you get from other staff.

But I stand by my assertion that my workmates are mostly lovely decent people.  2 in 13 years among 3500 is pretty good odds.

Clench!

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One of my regulars, a lady in her early 60’s, is always telling me about her exercise regime.  Apparently these exercises, relayed to her father by a Chinese doctor, have cured her of leukemia.  Her skin has the yellowish tone of someone who’s very ill.

Her exercise regime is to do two thousand arm swings every day.  They’re exactly like the hundred arms exercise in Pilates only standing up.  I don’t blame her for being obsessed, but sometimes when I see her outside the station swinging her arms, I suddenly think of something I have to do in the office. I‘ve known her to miss trains because she hasn’t reached two thousand yet.

Being so ill must be a lonely business.  So today I’m listening and so are a couple of social workers up from the hospital waiting to catch the train who want to hear all about this life saving exercise.

“Clench your bottom,” cries the lady. “And tuck in your belly.  Clench your bottom and swing your arms.”

Such is the authority in her voice that I see the social workers begin to swing their arms and, I suspect, clench their bottoms.  Oh no!  I’m doing it too.  As the train rolls in, there are the four of us swinging our arms in the autumn sun while the lady yells “clench your bottom.”

I see less of M and C now but this is a good thing. An NGO has found them a place to live.  http://www.hanover.org.au/

C is pregnant and I had terrible visions of them being homeless with a newborn. I suspect they did too – though they made tough noises about it. M is delighted with his new backpack and wears it everywhere.  A profound thank you to the people who offered them.

 

Difficult lives.

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Melbourne Street Art by Kranky. It doesn't have anything to do with the story, but it looks like those dolls are having a difficult time.
Melbourne Street Art by Kranky. It doesn’t have anything to do with the story, but it looks like those dolls are having a difficult time.

 

Looking back over my blog posts, I’ve noticed the station stories are much darker these days.  In the old days it used to be about getting cakes from men in wheelchairs.

This Thursday when I got to the junction they were running all the trains through Platform 4 until the ambulance came for the man who had passed out right on the edge of Platform 2.  The police arrived and recognized him as someone they’d just booked for assault, which made the ambo’s a bit jumpy.  But when he woke up he went away quietly enough, though with a police escort in the ambulance. The trains switched back to Platform 2

The saga of M and C continues.  C has disappeared again and M has reported her missing to the police.  He used my phone to call her father who denied knowledge of her whereabouts but said he’d look. M worries that she has gone back to her violent ex.  I worry full stop. Who knows what goes on between a couple?

I like them both especially M who is outgoing and personable in a kind of larrikin way. He seems to have a tremendous urge to take care of people which is sad because I see in him a nurse or elderly care person wasted.  I’m not sure how he comes to be living on the street and can’t find out without seeming to pry.  Perhaps it’s the lunchtime bourbon and cokes.  Certainly from the stories he tells me it seems that when he has had choices to make, he’s always made the wrong one.

Still this is a judgement free zone so I give him change for the phone and store his spare iced coffee in my fridge (the kind of thing lots of station staff do) At the moment I’m asking around to see if I can get him a new backpack because the straps on the old one which holds all his worldlies is broken.  I have a strong sense that you should be the change you want to see, as the saying goes, but if I was a truly good person I’d invite him to live in my spare room.  I want to be helpful but at the same time I’m worried – about not crossing boundaries and about whether I’m being a fool to trust M as much as I do.  My bosses would certainly not be pleased if he set up house in my waiting room.

A Moment of Stardom

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This picture by chopalop comes from the Reddit, Melbourne subreddit https://i.reddituploads.com/a39cba295bdf4df8ab124f5a7d7842f4?fit=max&h=1536&w=1536&s=c20cdacd14f8545e07ec75ad081314b8
This picture by chopalop comes from the Reddit, Melbourne subreddit
https://i.reddituploads.com/a39cba295bdf4df8ab124f5a7d7842f4?fit=max&h=1536&w=1536&s=c20cdacd14f8545e07ec75ad081314b8

On Tuesday a huge TV crew were at the junction filming scenes for a new Channel 10 series called The Wrong Girl starring Jessica Marais.  They needed someone qualified to wrangle the escalators so I spent an hour and a half pushing the stop button every time the location man tapped me on the shoulder.

The patience of film people!  They did the same 20 seconds of scene half a dozen times with the stunt double, a couple of times with the actress, and then they did it all again from a different vantage point.  They had to stop, and I had to restart the escalators, every time a train came in.  I never realized how many trains come in on Platform 1 before.

The customers were startled to reach the top of the escalators and find a middle-aged Metro employee hiding cross legged behind the railing, but my knees are shot and it was much easier to risk being trampled than get up and down.  The film crew were lovely. They kept offering me cushions to sit on and bringing me tea.

Of course I forgot to take a picture but luckily someone going past in a train did and you can see Jessica Marais and her stunt double behind the extra in the purple top.

The location man assured me that my big moment was a pivotal scene and wouldn’t wind up on the cutting room floor.  When you see the escalator stop, you won’t see me, but you’ll know I’m there pressing that button!  Watch out Jessica Marais!  I’m on my way and I’ve got stars in my eyes.!!! 🙂

 

Wouldn’t a nice cup of tea be better?

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This week’s star customers were the three teenagers I caught drawing with red pen on the poster cases. I was “somewhat peeved”.  Does being nice to people when they first arrive count for nothing?!!

“Hey stop that! Someone’s going to have to clean that up. I yelled.(not to mention that I have to report it… in triplicate.)

“Oh sorry Miss” said the girl with the pen.  And then she made it all worse by coming up to me with an incredibly cheeky grin on her face and saying, “I’m very, very sorry. I couldn’t help it.  It’s been a stressful day.”

I was confounded by this.

“Um Fair enough!” I muttered.  But the grin sent a bright red bullet of fury into my brain.

As she turned to go, I called out “Hey” and as she turned back to face me, I lifted up my mobile and clicked it at her.

By then I realized I’d done something rash. There were three of them and one was a very large lad.  So I took myself off and locked myself in the office till the train came and took them away.  As I closed the door behind me, I heard her friend say,

“Did she just take your picture?” so they knew what I’d done. Result! (pumps fist in air)

(I didn’t actually manage to take a picture – I’m a complete Klutz in these matters)

They haven’t been back.

But honestly. Since when has graffiting been a cure for stress.  What happened to a good book, a nice cup of tea or a lie down?!!!!

Station Stories – where we ask all the hard existential questions.

 

Touched by celebrity

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Station Story
I always chat with any Scandinavians who come through the station after visiting the zoo. I have such happy memories of my 7 years living in Copenhagen. They are lovely countries and Social Democracies are my government of choice. Got talking to a couple of young Swedes the other day and they told me they were from Malmo – Home of Scandie Noir.
“Does it annoy you to have all those crime thrillers set in your city?” I asked.
“No in fact, my father’s apartment was used for a setting in The Bridge!”  said one.
Turns out it was the home of the first victim in the latest (3rd) series.
OMG! I have been touched by celebrity! 🙂

M and C – the story continues

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I’ve written before about my homeless friends M and C, How they got themselves into a house and how then they broke up and C went off somewhere. I saw M a lot going past in the train after that and then for a while I didn’t.
Suddenly he started getting on at my station. He told me he’d found C – she was at her mother’s in the country – but that he’d lost the house. He told me he’d been in jail for a few months. “I punched a guy who was fiddling with little kids,” he told me. “But I was good in jail and worked on a trade certificate. I’m a qualified plasterer.”
He’s quite a nice person -he always helps tourists with the ticket machines and timetables very kindly – but it’s also clear he’s got a short fuse and he does love his Wild Turkey and coke. He has a big scar across his head which implies maybe Acquired Brain Injury or is simply due to his epilepsy. For a couple of days he had work on a building site. Then he was back to begging. So one step forward two back.
Then a few days later I saw a familiar figure on the opposite platform. It was C. She waved at me. She looked good.
The next day M waved at me out of the train. “Great news. She’s back,” he shouted.
They stopped by the station a couple of days later. They seemed pretty happy. Though C seems a bit reserved. They had a wizened little old man in tow. C introduced him as her father. “He’s staying with us for a bit,” she said. Staying was a strange word to use. They were all off into the city to do some begging. If they didn’t make enough money for a room, well they had sleeping bags.
M and C make me aware of my own middle-classness – my assumptions about work, houses and stability. You can’t have a relative to stay with you unless you at least have a floor for them to sleep on, can you? They also make me realize you don’t have to travel to experience other ways of life. They are here in Melbourne, right under your nose.

Too much information

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My regular customer J, told me early on he was autistic. If so, he’s pretty high functioning as he holds down a good blue collar job. He feels this entitles/requires him to call all women “shelias” and to say “good day mate” at every opportunity. Evidence of an ironic sense of humor? (Not a common autistic trait, I would have thought.) He’s a nice young man apart for that and we often talk. His main autistic trait seems to be that he has no filters. Sometimes I catch the other customers sniggering at things he says. Fortunately there was no one else in the waiting room recently when he startled me by replying to an ordinary “how are you?” with the information that he’d caught a venereal disease. (And no I didn’t ask for details – he probably would have told me and I really didn’t want to hear.)Still he has informed his partner/s very assiduously so it is no business of the station staff to judge.

Not what you think

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Even though school holidays are over, the Zoo is still teaming with international visitors, lots of whom must walk from the city since they keep turning up at the station without myki cards. Lots of people from mainland China at the moment – (Chinese New Year) – which is lovely to see, but trying to deal with the fact that our ticket machines don’t give change or deal with foreign credit cards and that even single trip users have to buy a myki smart card, can be very complicated when there is little or no shared language. Luckily I’ve been able to enlist the help of mandarin speakers on the platform. Once they know the score, people often go off and call a cab.
With North Americans I don’t have communication problems, but my heart sinks when I discover they have no change. North American credit cards don’t have pin numbers and our machine takes nothing else.
Last week one tall and very handsome American, gave up and went outside to call UBER.
He was joined by two sleazy looking characters (you know the sort, skinny blokes with tatts and bad teeth) with a large Rhodesian Ridge back dog. The guys started admiring his Blue tooth headset in a way that made me a bit nervous so I went out and hovered around protectively. But instead of mugging the man, when they found out he didn’t have a ticket, they offered to give him one of their spare myki cards. (Most Melbournians have several by now) Then we all stood around and patted the very good-natured dog until the train came.

Wheelchairs

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One of my wheelchair travelers is a young man of middle-eastern origin and poor English.  I don’t know if he didn’t understand that the driver would get a ramp out for him or if, as seems more likely, he is building up his strength to get in to the train without help. Some very fit individuals do. But he’s not there yet and last week he didn’t hoik the chair up high enough and it got caught on the lip of the train.  Over went the chair, tipping him face first onto the train floor.

He didn’t fuss, though the rest of us were flapping about in a tizz – train driver, station staff, fellow passengers. But the young man simply crawled around on his hands until he was in a good position for someone to lift him back into his chair.  He’s got the determination to get there eventually.  But I was relieved he waited for the ramp this week.