They’re Not Going To Throw You Under The Bus

, , , , | Hopeless | December 15, 2018

I’m a fairly young-looking girl. I’ve recently started working a fairly horrible shift — three am to eleven am — sorting parcels to make some extra money for Christmas, around three miles from my home. I don’t drive, so I bought a bike to make life easier, as there’s no one I know that can give me a lift at those sort of times.

This morning I set off from home as usual. It was pretty icy out, and I blamed that for the slight veering and wobbling along the way. About ten minutes in, I realised that my handlebars had misaligned, and were getting looser and looser. Thinking that by the time I got home to take it back I’d be late for work, I decided to just push the d*** thing to work and deal with just being a few minutes late… completely forgetting that the route I take is cycle-based into an industrial area outside of town, and most of the rest of the way is pitch-black and without pavement or a sidewalk. But at least I had my visibility vest from work, and nothing happened apart from being rained on.

I finally finished work at 11, realised that I was exhausted, and I couldn’t risk veering all over the road when there was actual traffic, but at least I could catch a bus halfway and just push my bike the rest. I saw an off-duty bus driver pull up at the parcel depot I was leaving to collect a parcel, and thinking that I’d never tried to take a bike on a bus I should probably ask before detouring to the bus stop. He told me that unless it’s a long journey route, there’s no bike racks or space, and none the city buses in this area allow them. And at that point, I realised how much I’d been counting on the idea of not having to walk the whole hour in the rain. I was exhausted. I managed to hold back the tears that started to form and thanked him for telling me. I began slowly pushing the dang bike in the general direction of home, trying to map a walking route on my nearly-dead phone.

About five minutes later, the same guy pulled over next to me in his not-in-service bus and told me that it wasn’t ideal, but the route to the depot to drop his bus off went quite close to town, and he wouldn’t mind dropping me off.

I almost began to see the world as if I were in some anime, and a shining white Knight was offering to help. My eyes widened and glistened as I could only croak the word, “Really?”

My house was actually nearer the depot than the town centre, and this wonderful person dropped me off less than two minutes from my house, for free. He spent the journey asking questions and taking my mind off how awful I’d been feeling since starting these horrible shifts, and telling me how things will get better.

I know it’s a stupid and small thing in the grand scheme of things, but at that moment it felt like the single nicest thing anyone had ever done for someone. And I’m not one for fuzzy feelings or faith in humanity. But today, at least for a little while, faith in humanity seems like a viable concept.

Bridging The Facts

, , , , , | Learning | December 6, 2018

(Our school is taking a trip to New York City, and the teacher in charge has hired a local tour guide to come onto our bus to tell some facts about landmarks. While talking about the Brooklyn Bridge, the guide brings up the architect, John Roebling.)

Guide: “Now, does anyone by chance happen to know where John Roebling is from?”

Literally Everyone On The Bus: “Saxonburg, Pennsylvania!”

Guide: “No, that’s not right. Hmm… I can’t remember, either. Oh, well. Moving on.”

Teacher: “No, they are right and you are wrong. He is from Saxonburg, and that is a fact. Our school is in Saxonburg; our park is named ‘Roebling Park’ after him, and they even have a model of the Brooklyn Bridge in it. If there is one thing we know, it’s where he’s from.”

This Method Is A Punch Above The Rest

, , , , , , , | Friendly | November 21, 2018

CONTENT WARNING: Child Assault

(I have been working at the county detention center. My youngest sister is constantly getting bullied — name-calling, mainly — on the school bus in the afternoon by the same group of kids, and despite my parents making several complaints to the school, it continues. Finally, one day, one of the boys goes too far, and actually tries to grope her. These kids are all eight to ten years old. I give her some advice from our detention officer certification course instructor.)

Me: “Listen carefully, [Sister]. If that boy tries to put his hands on you again, hit him.”

Sister: “But I’ll get in trouble.”

Me: “I don’t care; you hit him hard. Punch him! Scratch him! Kick him! If you get in trouble, I will leave work and yell at your principal for not stopping this sooner.”

(The remainder of the afternoon is spent teaching her a few strikes and nerve points our instructor taught us. The next day when I get off work, I see her grinning ear to ear.)

Me: “Was your ride home okay?”

Sister: “Yup! He tried to pull my shirt up, but I hit him in the throat! He started crying!”

(She didn’t get in trouble for defending herself.)

What’s The Chinese Word For “Owned”?

, , , , , | Friendly | November 19, 2018

(My friend is a very attractive woman who likes to dress nicely, but when this happens she has been going through a rough patch. She’s not wearing nice clothes, nor wearing any jewellery or makeup. She also has red, swollen eyes from crying. I’m taking her to have dinner at her favourite restaurant to cheer her up, when a group of Chinese girls gets on the same bus we’re riding and stands right in front of where we’re sitting. I have been studying Chinese for four years. This takes place in Chinese.)

Chinese Girl #1: “Oh, God… Look at that girl in the black shirt. She looks awful.”

Chinese Girl #2: *laughs* “Yeah… Why did she go out like this? She’s so ugly.”

Chinese Girl #1: “Look at her friend, though. He looks nice.”

Chinese Girl #3: *to me* “Hey, handsome. Don’t pay attention to that ugly girl. Come with us.”

(They all begin to laugh, thinking no one has understood anything they’ve said.)

Me: *in Chinese* “No, thanks. Being with her, what would I need someone like any of you for?”

(The three girls stared at me before one of them asked if I understood all that they said. I nodded, and they all turned a bright red colour I never even knew people could get. They moved to the back of the bus and tried to avoid eye contact with me.)

Unfiltered Story #127528

, , , | Unfiltered | November 19, 2018

(I’m a tour guide on a sightseeing bus tour around London, pointing out the sights and answering any questions passengers may have. At one point on the tour we’re driving through a tunnel…)

Passenger – Is this the tunnel where Princess Diana died?

Me – Well, she died in Paris…

Passenger – Like I said, is this the tunnel where she died?

Me – I really have no idea how to answer that. Except “no”

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