Monday, September 3, 2012

A Significantly Less Than Epic Day

I hate public transit.

I hate college move-in weeks.

I hate labor day.

On a typical day it takes about 15, maybe 20 minutes of waiting before the bus gets to our stop. Then it's another 20 or so minutes to Kenmore station, where I work.

But this past weekend was move in at Boston University. I work at the Boston University bookstore. So, basically, this past weekend was Hell in a box. A big, coffee drenched, mocha syrup sticky, iced tea stained box.

Oh, yes, I also hate frappuccinos.

Anyway, I knew to leave early. I have to go right through campus so traffic was a nightmare. Of course I worked both Friday and Saturday at 7:15 AM so got to work way early and hung out and at Kenmore. That's fine. Sunday I was also in at 10:00, which is early for Sunday so I was still there early. All good.

Then today happened.

It's Labor Day. I don't really know how that effects the bus schedule, plus it's still busy from the B.U. hooplah. So, I left an hour and a half before I had to be at work. Earlier than any of the other days. I was being cautious. I absolutely despise being late. Really, really hate it.

I sat at the stop for about 45 minutes. I never once saw a bus. I was getting irritated. And Sam is a goddess and put up with with frantically bitchy text messages and informed me the MBTA app informed her a bus was coming in six minutes. Huzzah!

It was closer to ten and I saw the bus and I stood up and was all set. I had 45 ish minutes to get to work.

And then the bus drove right past the stop.

I looked around, panicked. I was thinking of hailing a cab. But then I didn't see one. So after a couple of minutes Sam got another bitchy frantic text.

The next bus is 36 minutes away.

That doesn't really factor in transit time. I wouldn't make it.

So, Sam, clear-headed Sam, suggests I walk to the T station. I almost run.

I get there at the T is pulling away. 15 more minutes of waiting and I'm getting nervous. It shows up. I get on. I have about 20 minutes. Possible.

Oh no. I forgot the last time I took this train it was the express. This was not.


I was upset. I called work and said I was going to be a couple of minutes late.

A couple of minutes ended up being 20. I was pissed. Everyone at work was really cool about it and when I was frantically apologizing and babbling off half sentences about my story, the cafe supervisor nods and says "Ah, the 57?"

Apparently this is common. That makes me nervous. I miss my car. My beautiful 1999 Buick Century. My glorious Sinclair.

Then work was just a busy mess. Angry unspecific people. My inability to read a cup or tell the difference between a coffee frappuccino and a caramel one.

In short, screw public transit. And screw frappuccinos. Oh, and people who order frappuccinos ten minutes before we close.

Plus side? I got paid time and a half because it's a holiday. And I have two days off and a job interview on Wednesday.

That's today. UGH!


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