The ABCs Of Being Late

, , , , | Learning | November 15, 2017

(My university has shuttles that transport students between campuses. [Campus A] is right across from my apartment, so I use the shuttle there to go to [Campus B], where I take another shuttle to [Campus C]. The [A-B shuttle] has been incredibly reliable for the past two years, but the guy who drives it when I go to my Tuesday/Thursday classes this semester always seems to be 15 minutes late for a 10-minute drive. At first, I think traffic is just worse at this time, but the shuttle tracker shows that he’s actually departing [Campus B] 15 minutes late. I’ve taken to asking the driver to call the [B-C shuttle] and ask them to wait, reasoning that I shouldn’t be embarrassed to ask for accommodations when it’s their fault I’m late. One day, he’s even later than usual.)

Me: “Could you call the [B-C Shuttle] and ask them to wait?”

A-B Driver: “Actually, there was an accident on the interstate, so they’re running late, too.”

(He drives to [Campus B] and arrives just as the [B-C shuttle] departs.)

A-B Driver: “All right. If you stay on, I can catch him at the light.”

([A-B Driver] manages to get [B-C Driver]’s attention at the light, and I get on the [B-C shuttle].)

Me: *to [B-C Driver]* “Sorry! I asked him to call ahead, but he said it was fine because you were running late, too.”

B-C Driver: “Not as late as him, though!”

Your Realization Skills Are Out Of Gas

, , , , , , | Learning | November 14, 2017

(I’m in college, coming back from a cross-country meet with my teammates. Our school is small, so we take two mini-buses and have our coach and assistant coach drive them. I’m on the bus with our assistant coach, only about five minutes away from home, when we run out of gas. We pull over to the side of the road and try to call our coach and his wife. Another truck pulls over and my assistant coach goes to talk to the driver.)

Assistant Coach: “Thanks for stopping; we have a bit of a problem, here!”

Truck Driver: “Hey, do you know what time the cafeteria closes at [Other College in our town]?”

Assistant Coach: “Uh, no. We’re actually from [College], but we’re kind of out of gas.”

Truck Driver: “Oh, yeah? I’m running a bit low, too. Thanks, anyway.” *drives away*

(Eventually, our coach’s wife did bring us some gas. I still wonder if that guy eventually realized we were asking him for help.)

Unfiltered Story #100066

, , | Unfiltered | November 13, 2017

(I am the customer in this story. My bus arrives and I have my pass in hand, but only then realise I bought a return ticket that morning. I get out my purse, where it should be, but can’t find it. The following is the conversation I have with the bus driver after placing my pass on the reader:)

Me: “[Street Name], please.” *sighs* “I bought a return this morning but now I can’t find it.”

Bus Driver: “Oh dear… you’re also already on [Street Name], so I can’t sell you a ticket to there!”

Me: “Ugh, sorry, [destination name] please.”

Bus Driver: “There you go.” *I begin to walk away* “Don’t forget your card!”

Me: I’ll forget to get off next!”

(Thankfully I didn’t… that would have been a long, expensive and potentially impossible journey home!)

Unfiltered Story #99636

, , , | Unfiltered | November 8, 2017

(The bus I drive has automatic information announcements. There are some passengers that I playfully harass. One girl who’s a humorous target of mine, boards the bus.)

Girl: *inserts bus pass, swats me on the arm, goes to sit down*

Bus Announcement: *literally two seconds after she sits* “Did you know assaulting a bus operator is a felony?”

Unfiltered Story #94391

, | Unfiltered | September 22, 2017

(It’s one of the last days of sixth grade for me and I’m in the bus on the way home. My stop is one of the last stops so there aren’t many people still on board and I’m in the back by myself. I decide to be “rebellious” in a very 11-year-old way and slouch in the rear seat and, while the bus is stopped at a long light, I press my hand against the rear window with my middle finger fully extended. After a couple seconds I start to wonder if there’s actually anybody there, so I look and there’s a guy, probably in his late 20’s, sitting in the driver’s seat of the car directly behind us absolutely losing his mind, screaming and shouting and gesturing at me/the bus. Sitting next to him is a woman with her face buried in her hands, completely withdrawn. Since I was 11 and *all adults* were still authority figures to me in my mind, I was mortified. I moved up to the front half of the bus and hid in a seat. I was right in front of a friend, now, and told him what happened. The bus started to move again and we were driving down a long, 4-lane boulevard for well over a mile. I looked out the side of the bus and saw the guy who had been behind us leaning out the side of his car as he sped along side the bus, screaming at the bus driver to pull over. Again, I was mortified. Eventually we turned off the main road into my neighborhood and the guy in the car kept going straight, never to be seen again. It was at this point the bus driver spoke up.)

Driver: “Does anybody know what that guy was screaming about next to us back there?”

Friend: “YEAH! [My name] GAVE HIM THE FINGER!”

Me: “NO I DIDN’T!”



(It was dropped after that and never came up again. It’s been over 25 years since that happened and to this day I wish I could know what the heck that guy’s problem was. No one likes to be tossed the bird, but I feel like most people can also take the source into consideration when it’s coming from a 60-pound weasel on a yellow school bus.)

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