I’m on a bus. The driver is doing some sort of checks with paperwork. The bus is early and everyone seems to be okay waiting.

It’s a little bus, and I’m sitting right at the front, perfectly positioned to see a woman (around twenty or so) get on the bus with crutches; it looks like she has injured her ankle. She is cursing and muttering under her breath.

Woman: “One way to [Hospital].”

Driver: *Not looking up* “You need to get the next one.”

Woman: “What? Why? Kick someone off! I need to get to the hospital!”

Driver: *Flatly* “This isn’t your bus.”

Woman: “Because you’re some s***ty driver, you can bully people? I have every right to be on here!”

The driver sighs, putting down the papers.

Driver: “No, the bus to the hospital has ‘hospital’ written on it. It will be the next bus arriving. About five minutes.”

She scowls at the driver for a while, before he goes back to his work. She limps off the bus and sits at the bus stop, arms folded, face like thunder. The driver checks his watch, puts down his papers, and turns to the passengers.

Driver: “Thanks to everyone for waiting. We can leave now. Special mention to anyone hoping to get off at the hospital: leave now and wait for the next one. Although looking at the face on that one, I might suggest rescheduling the appointment.”

It got a chuckle from some of the passengers, which also caused many to turn to look out the window at her.

This only angered her more. While I couldn’t hear her, I can only imagine the language she was shouting at us all.

Way back in the early 1980s, this guy would almost daily take the same bus, and at the exact same departure time, too.

A single fare back then was two Danish kroner. He’d always try to pay with a five-hundred-krone note, but because the drivers didn’t have that kind of change, and because the banknote WAS legal tender, the guy would always get a free ride.

That is, until word reached the dispatch manager one day. Said manager drained the office safe for as many coins as he could find — the smaller the denomination, the better. The next day, the jerk tried to pull the same stunt. Imagine the combined smugness and glee on the face of the driver who could now report:

Driver: “Oh, good news, sir! I can actually break that for you today!”

The jerk ended up receiving:
12 x 20 kr. (240 kr.)
15 x 10 kr. (150 kr.)
19 x 5 kr. (95 kr.)
20 x 0.25 kr. (5 kr.)
20 x 0.10 kr. (2 kr.)
12 x 0.50 kr. (6 kr.)
TOTAL: 498 kr.

All his pockets were about to burst, and he rattled like a knight in shining armour walking down the aisle to find a seat. The jerk never tried to pull that stunt again.

I become friends with one of the managers in the railway division and he tells me about a customer complaint that he got.

At the time, he had a pretty important role in the company; he was in charge of Rail Safety And Standards. Basically, his department wrote all the rules about rail safety and would be liable in the event of an incident. As you can imagine, he took his job VERY seriously!

One day, the customer service department passed him a complaint from an angry passenger who had complained:

Passenger: “My train was delayed by forty minutes and I was late for work!”

The customer service team had compensated her in line with company policy, but she still wasn’t happy, so they’d investigated and found that the delay was due to a signal failure outside the station. Signal failures were my friend’s responsibility to deal with, so he was asked to respond to the complaint.

My friend replied to the woman and apologised for the delay. He explained that in a signal failure, all trains into and out of the block protected by the signal would have been stopped, and no train would be allowed to pass through the block without a “pilotman” (basically a trained signaller) on board. My friend explained that, on the day in question, the failed signal was just outside the station, and since the pilotman couldn’t travel by train to the station, he therefore had to drive over and was at the mercy of city traffic. Hence, the train was delayed for forty minutes. My friend explained that these arrangements were in place for everyone’s safety.

He told me that he wasn’t exactly surprised by her reply.

Passenger: “I don’t give a s*** about safety — mine or anyone else’s! I just want to get to work on time!”

When I was fifteen, I caught the same bus every Saturday to get to my flute lesson. I usually left early so I had some time to spare. One such Saturday morning, I left even earlier than usual. It was fairly cold and there was a light rain, so I was wearing an long, red coat and had a decent-looking umbrella. I’ve been told before that this outfit made me look around eighteen, so maybe that’s why the things that happened the way they did.

I made it to my bus stop and sat down to wait. The only other person there was a girl in her twenties. She was crying and clutching a single piece of paper. I also noticed that she wasn’t wearing anything warm, despite the weather. I felt really bad for her.

Me: “Are you all right?”

She looked at me, swallowed, and said:

Girl: “I just got some bad news.

Me: *Concerned* “Do you want to talk about it?”

That seemed to be the tipping point, and she broke down in front of me. She explained through tears that she’d gone to her doctor to check a lump on her neck and that she’d just gotten the results back. It was a tumour. She didn’t know if it was malignant, but her doctor wanted her back immediately for more testing.

I sat with her for about ten minutes. She told me that her friend was picking her up to take her to the appointment, but she didn’t know how long they would be. I didn’t really know what to do, but I just wanted to make sure she was all right. Then, my bus came. The girl waved me away, trying to smile, saying that she would be fine. Feeling guilty, I got on. I was the only person on board. The bus driver looked equally worried.

I didn’t even make it a single stop before I felt bad about leaving her in the rain by herself. I asked the driver to stop early. Since I was the only person there, he let me off, telling me to make sure the girl was all right. I ran the whole way back. Luckily, the girl was still sitting there waiting. She looked shocked that I’d come back but a little glad, too.

Me: “I really don’t think you should be alone right now.”

I sat with her for another ten minutes, talking with her and trying to distract her until her friend came. When her friend’s car finally appeared, she started thanking me profusely. Her friend pulled up and leaned over from the driver’s seat, asking what was going on.

Girl’s Friend: “Thank you so much for staying with her. [Girl] called me and I came as fast as I could, but the traffic was terrible. Do you want a lift since you missed your bus?”

Me: “No, it’s all right. I was early anyway. I just hope everything turns out all right.”

Girl: *Through tears* “Thank you. It really means a lot that you did that. I’m sorry to have just dumped it all on you. Thank you so much.”

Me: “It’s fine. That’s just something you shouldn’t have to sit alone with. I only did what I thought was best.”

Girl’s Friend: “Are you sure you don’t want a lift?”

I shook my head, wished [Girl] good luck, and waved them off. They thanked me again multiple times and then slowly drove away. Even though I ended up being a few minutes late for my lesson, I’ll never forget the way [Girl] thanked me for simply sitting with her and listening. [Girl], if you’re out there, I really do hope you’re okay and that everything turned out all right in the end.

I am a woman who is not interested in having children. For whatever godforsaken reason, the idea that I am happy as a childless adult does not sit well with others.

I was scrolling through social media on the bus when an elderly woman sitting beside me leaned over and saw a picture of a toddler on my screen.

Woman: “What a cute little face!”

I smiled politely.

Woman: “Is she yours?”

Me: “No.”

Woman: “Do you have little ones of your own?”

Me: “No, I’m not interested.”

She patted my arm gently.

Woman: “Don’t worry. sweetheart. It will happen.”

Me: “I hope not.”

The woman looked as if she had smelled something terrible.

Woman: “But women are supposed to be mothers!”

Me: “I’m not.”

We stared at each other for a few seconds before she shifted and looked away. I heard her take a deep breath as if she was going to say something else, but she never did. I could have just said, “No, I don’t have any,” and left it at that, but she also could have minded her own business in the first place.