There are some jobs out there that really deserve a colossal amount of respect - the police force, paramedics, doctors, surgeons, and of course postmen. These people save lives, protect people, and in some cases risk their own.
I am totally okay with these people taking their job seriously, because, and fair play to them, they have that right.
However some jobs there is always a select group (or as I prefer, cult) of people who are willing to take their job so seriously it's laughable, and I slowly grow to hate anybody who upholds a certain profession.
Of course there are always a couple of decent bus drivers - yes, I'm talking about bus drivers, however, as ever, I will not focus on the decent ones. I'm going to run through a step by step guide of how much I hate them and the lengths they go (I'm sure they've got it in for me) to piss me off or to look like total pillocks on your average bus journey.
So to start off, let's get on the bus. It always helps and is a pretty vital step in getting on a bus. If I get on the bus, I'm not the sort of person with a bus pass, because if you are, the bus drivers respect you slightly more than the other peasants, however of course, in true MI5 style, they still have to look over their glasses and frown as they do this sort of trick that all bus driver's are taught specially just to make sure that eighty-nine year old Wilma isn't a master of espionage who may or may not be criminally armed and dangerous and thus putting the entire contents of the bus in mortal danger. Of course it always seems to turn out that these elderly pensioners aren't in fact criminal masterminds, so the bus driver gives a curt nod of irritation, to allow them to enter their temple of wisdom. Oh, sorry, I mean the 527 to Grimsby, or something.
Another thing that really irritates bus drivers is lots of change. I've paid with lots of change before, and it really pisses them off, because it dawns upon them that they can't perform a quick, smooth action before moving on to the next passenger. They have to fiddle around and look brilliantly stupid. They also have to count the change, which I find really baffling. If I am really going to fool anyone regarding not paying the full amount of money, rest assured it will never be for a bus. A twenty minute ride into town isn't so important to me that I'm going to underpay by five measly pence. Especially not when I have the apparent Bus Mafia controlling me and my every move.
Actually there was one occasion where I paid for the bus, got my ticket, and went upstairs. The bus driver was a regular arse, and had an irritating, nasal South African accent that he used to his advantage to create a further air of apparent superiority. As I reached the top of the stairs, his heroic voice boomed up at me,
Somewhat taken aback by this bizarre outburst, I stopped. 'The last person that paid, come back down here,' he curtly said, sitting in his throne of mystery. Although I had no way of telling whether I was the last person to have paid, if not anybody had paid after me, I decided not to tell him this, because I didn't want to anger him any more, in the fear that he may have actually exploded.
So I came down, a bit taken aback, and he was brandishing a shining 5p in his finger and thumb, like he was a very amateur pirate. He didn't say anything, because of course he is a bus driver, a step away from royalty, and so his actions should really speak beautiful angelic choruses to a mere mortal such as myself.
'What?' I asked, 'sorry' being to respectful to someone I strongly disrespect. 'It's FAKE', he spat, expecting a gasp from the bus-goers that didn't happen. I frowned and asked him what he meant. 'This, is a fake, five pence.' he hissed. It was at this point I felt very sorry for this man. He takes his job so seriously he looks at every single penny and decided whether it's fake or not?
Of course it wasn't fake, I'm not stupid and he of course was, and like I said before, if I was faking money I'd not do it on a 5p, and would at least contribute it to buying a villa in Spain, or a BMW, or a diamond ring, which suffice to say aren't things I acquire on a daily basis. However upon me calmly explaining to this venom-spouting warlord that it wasn't fake, and if it was, I had no clue about it (I hated saying that, 'cos it really wasn't fake), he decided to 'let me off'.
Oh how considerate of him. I thanked him wholeheartedly. Not.
Another thing is when you get off the bus. Everyone, except for the really rude, says 'thank you', or a variation. 'Thanks' and 'cheers' are also acceptable. To this the decent bus drivers return with a jolly 'thanks!' every now and again. But the bastard majority sit there in their seat and just grunt.
Next time I get off a bus I'm just going to grunt, before testing wit with a 'next time' bus pass fraud.