![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The Glittering Lights
Sep. 4th, 2012 09:15 pmThe local member of parliament has sent me a newsletter. He likes to keep in touch. It's a four-page newsletter (as in, one sheet of A3 folded in half), and in those four pages, he has managed to put his photograph nine times. Just in case you forget whose newsletter it is from one article to another.
I also received an email today from a woman who signed herself 'Finance Executive for MICE'. So that must be nice for her.
I have just come home from a meeting of the all the finance managers of the sister-organisations in our funding network. The convenor thought it would be a good idea to start with an ice-breaking exercise where we had to do a little personality questionnaire to find out what sort of bird we were: eagle, dove, peacock or owl. I have no idea what was going to happen after that; maybe the birds of a feather would flock together and… I don't know. Squawk at each other? At any rate, it didn't work. In a room of fourteen accountants and one convenor, we ended up with fourteen owls and one peacock. He was stunned. 'That's never happened before!' he said, but, really, what did he expect? We should have had a questionnaire to find out who was the owliest owl.
Going to this meeting meant a trip to Melbourne on the train. The Warrnambool to Melbourne train is a reserved seating service. You have to book a ticket in advance to travel in First or Economy; if you buy a ticket on the day, you go in Unreserved Economy. It's not a secret. There are posters up where you buy tickets, it says so when you buy online, and they announce it several times before the train takes off. I've heard that spiel so often I could do it from memory should the conductor ever lose the script (and I like to think I could do it with a bit more pizazz than he puts into it). Anyway, when the conductor came round to First Class to check our tickets, the well-dressed middle-aged woman in front of me had an Unreserved Economy ticket. The conductor pointed this out and woman went right off. 'No-one told me!' she said with indignation, as the woman on the other side of the aisle looked at me and rolled her eyes. We'd been told three times: twice at the platform and once after setting off, and the woman been there the whole time, not wearing headphones or anything like that. The conductor escorted her politely to the proper carriage, and good riddance. Unreserved Economy riffraff. :-)
After she went, the real owner of that seat arrived. Lawks, she could talk. As she made her way along the carriage, she told three random people, loudly, that she hadn't been on a train for thirty years. When she sat down, she told the woman sitting next to her, loudly, that she hadn't been on a train for thirty years, except for yesterday. Yesterday when she left the station she took a taxi to the hospital and it took six minutes, but today when she took a taxi from the hospital to the station, it took twenty-six minutes. Road works. Then someone she knew got on the train and stopped to chat to her and she told them that she hadn't been on a train for thirty years except for yesterday, when it took her six minutes to get to the hospital, but today it took twenty-six minutes to do the reverse trip on account of the road works.
The person she knew said, 'Oh dear, are you all right, going to the hospital?' and the woman said, 'Oh, it's not me, I went to see Stephen, he's had an operation on his back. He had an emergency op on Saturday and two more since then, so I thought I'd best go see him. First time I've been on a train in thirty years!'
I'm not sure, but I think it was the first time she'd been on a train in thirty years.
I gave it some thought on the way home and I reckon it would be possible to abuse the reserved seating system to try to get a solo seat. You could buy two tickets and return one the day before travelling, thus ensuring that there was only a very small window of time when the neighbouring seat was available to sell. I am almost tempted to try that next time, just to see if it works.
I also received an email today from a woman who signed herself 'Finance Executive for MICE'. So that must be nice for her.
I have just come home from a meeting of the all the finance managers of the sister-organisations in our funding network. The convenor thought it would be a good idea to start with an ice-breaking exercise where we had to do a little personality questionnaire to find out what sort of bird we were: eagle, dove, peacock or owl. I have no idea what was going to happen after that; maybe the birds of a feather would flock together and… I don't know. Squawk at each other? At any rate, it didn't work. In a room of fourteen accountants and one convenor, we ended up with fourteen owls and one peacock. He was stunned. 'That's never happened before!' he said, but, really, what did he expect? We should have had a questionnaire to find out who was the owliest owl.
Going to this meeting meant a trip to Melbourne on the train. The Warrnambool to Melbourne train is a reserved seating service. You have to book a ticket in advance to travel in First or Economy; if you buy a ticket on the day, you go in Unreserved Economy. It's not a secret. There are posters up where you buy tickets, it says so when you buy online, and they announce it several times before the train takes off. I've heard that spiel so often I could do it from memory should the conductor ever lose the script (and I like to think I could do it with a bit more pizazz than he puts into it). Anyway, when the conductor came round to First Class to check our tickets, the well-dressed middle-aged woman in front of me had an Unreserved Economy ticket. The conductor pointed this out and woman went right off. 'No-one told me!' she said with indignation, as the woman on the other side of the aisle looked at me and rolled her eyes. We'd been told three times: twice at the platform and once after setting off, and the woman been there the whole time, not wearing headphones or anything like that. The conductor escorted her politely to the proper carriage, and good riddance. Unreserved Economy riffraff. :-)
After she went, the real owner of that seat arrived. Lawks, she could talk. As she made her way along the carriage, she told three random people, loudly, that she hadn't been on a train for thirty years. When she sat down, she told the woman sitting next to her, loudly, that she hadn't been on a train for thirty years, except for yesterday. Yesterday when she left the station she took a taxi to the hospital and it took six minutes, but today when she took a taxi from the hospital to the station, it took twenty-six minutes. Road works. Then someone she knew got on the train and stopped to chat to her and she told them that she hadn't been on a train for thirty years except for yesterday, when it took her six minutes to get to the hospital, but today it took twenty-six minutes to do the reverse trip on account of the road works.
The person she knew said, 'Oh dear, are you all right, going to the hospital?' and the woman said, 'Oh, it's not me, I went to see Stephen, he's had an operation on his back. He had an emergency op on Saturday and two more since then, so I thought I'd best go see him. First time I've been on a train in thirty years!'
I'm not sure, but I think it was the first time she'd been on a train in thirty years.
I gave it some thought on the way home and I reckon it would be possible to abuse the reserved seating system to try to get a solo seat. You could buy two tickets and return one the day before travelling, thus ensuring that there was only a very small window of time when the neighbouring seat was available to sell. I am almost tempted to try that next time, just to see if it works.