I meant to blog about these things individually last week and got so busy.

Here’s my long list of catch-up!

A while ago, there was a power outage in my neighbourhood. I still had to go to work. I have to somehow walk through the unlit streets to my bus stop. I have to cross the danger street where on a GOOD day, at least 3 cars run the red light. Now there are no lights so it’s anyone’s game. I hold my breath, wait until the car beside me (going the same direction that I am) moves, then I close my eyes and run like hell. The people at the bus stop are cheering me on and as soon as I get there they say “we did it too!”

Exhilarating to say the least. Now it’s time for the crabby old lady who I often talk about. You know, the one who pushes everyone out of the way to get on the bus first. She strolls across the street like she owns it. She doesn’t seem to care that the lights are down and there are cars coming from all directions. She takes her time crossing, she doesn’t look up, and she doesn’t even wave a thank-you to the cars nice enough to stop.

I understand that pedestrians have rights, but really, if that car chooses to run the light (or the intersection) and he hits you. That’s car-1, crabby old lady-0.

On this same day, I notice an empty garbage can flying around the middle of the street. Given it’s dark out AND there are still no lights, I think that’s unsafe. Suppose a car hits it and gets into an accident, or the swerve to miss it and get into an accident. As a concerned bystander, I take the time to move it off to the side. I run to get it before any car can hit me, and bring it back. Woot. Pat on the back to me. So what? That was a measly minute out of my day but by the time I get back to the bus stop, crabby old lady is now at the front of the line and gets on the bus first. I hate that woman. Now every morning I walk the 8 minutes out of my way to catch the bus at the mall so that I can avoid her all together. She ruins my morning. Not anymore, crabby wench!

I know I’ve mentioned my beef with the subway patrons. But don’t you hate it when you’re clearly trying to get off the train, and people are already pushing their way on? Where are you going to go once you’re on? No where, as I’m still trying to get out. I close my eyes, stick out my elbows and go. Move or don’t move, I’m getting off.

The other day, there was a medical emergency on a train ahead of me. All trains were stopped. We had to get off and catch a bus to the nearest working subway station. So we are all herded off the train. And the people behind me are pushing and trying to get past.

Dude! It’s a bottle-neck. There are hundreds of people and only one doorway. We all have to get there, wait your turn. Pushing past me is just asking for a swift kick in the shins.

Speaking of bottle-necks. The Tim Horton’s downstairs operates efficiently on most days, except during rush hour. They have 4-6 people on cash, taking orders and another 2-3 people strictly getting the coffee. The problem lies at the end, where there is only one toaster. 2 people are making bagels and breakfasts at the end near the toaster. So there are 6 people taking food orders but only 2 people making them? The line up of people waiting for food is incredible!

They’ve put in place a ‘bingo’ like system, where you get a number when you order your food, and when your foods ready, some girl at the end yells out your number. I like to yell BINGO and ask what I’ve won. It’s not funny to anyone other than me.

There are two shift supervisors at this Tim’s that we like to call ‘Hitler’. Yes we call them both Hitler, we’re not that creative. There is ‘Hitler’ and ‘Hitler-with-glasses’ and this is how we know the difference. They run a tight ship! I’d hate to work there under them, yelling this and that, you’re always wrong, they’re always right. They embarrass their staff in front of customers. I feel bad for the young Nazis-in-training. Hitler-with-glasses is rude to customers too, so we generally just avoid her.

So one day I get stuck in this bottle-neck waiting for my bagel. A quite girl calling out the numbers says “eighteen” and since that’s my number, I say “yes, that’s me.” She smiles and says “ok” but doesn’t give me any food. Then Hitler yells “NUMBER EIGHTEEN” and I say “YES, THAT’S ME!” Hitler laughs at my joke, but still doesn’t give me food.

I’m really confused. Why would they call my number and not give me anything? Maybe 5 minutes later the quiet girl gives me my bagel and apologizes for the wait. I don’t mind waiting, these things happen. But I’m still puzzled as to why I was yelled at by Hitler when no food was ready. You’d think they’d say “number 18, we’ve forgotten you, you’re coming up next” not just yell my number like the place is on fire, but not tell me why. Weird.

I have some more posts to write today, but I should probably get some work done first.

To be continued…

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