“I woke up early for nothing!”

….said the clairvoyant lady on the train platform.

She’s middle aged, but those 6 words in that succession make her appear much wiser beyond her years.  I recognize this kind of wisdom because I’d like to think I’m an old soul stuck in the body of a 36 year old. I digress.

What could possibly cause her strife on a morning full of blue sky and potential?

There are two trains on the platform.

Track 1 is the alleged 6:18. The train formerly know as the 6:30, rest in peace.

Who knows? Maybe by the end of the summer, I can develop a really cool symbol for this train which no one can pronounce.

Track 2 has a 6:48.

The monitor says the 6:18 is on Track 1.

Track 1 looks abandoned.
Track 2 looks more welcoming.

I see a Customer Service Ambassador.

I was just about to be snarky and comment on my very recently self-diagnosed dyslexia, when my new friend (I’m getting ahead of myself) asks;

“Excuse me, is this the 6:18? Or is that one?”

Our friendly Customer Service Ambassador says; “Well, yes. There was a bit of a switch up today, this here is the 6:18 and we’re going to get to where we need to go quickly and have some fun!”

One out of two ain’t bad.

He seems rather jovial, and I sense a blind faith in his words.

I decide I enjoy this person’s approach, even though he reminds me of Bob Saget and Ned Flanders.

My new friend seems very distraught. Perhaps her Feng Shui has been altered to the point of no balance.

Maybe she, like dozens of other commuters bet Track 1 for today’s instalment of “How The Hell Am I Getting To Work?” and now has to pay for someone else’s transit.

Maybe it’s a conspiracy.

Maybe the train on Track 1 is a ghost train and there to give the pretence of choice.

No, that’s ridiculous!

Clearly, the train on Track 1 stores the gold pieces the execs from Bun Company Enterprises and Hot Dog Corporation have accumulated.

Track 1’s train does appear to be closer to the ground.

Yes, that has to be it.

“I woke up early for nothing!” my new friend is busy convincing herself.

I turn to her and say; “Nah. 90% of life is about showing up. And being on time. You’ll get there.”

She looks and smiles.

I take my seat and grin.

When’s the last time I heard that familiar phrase?

I’m trying to place it in my mind.

Ah right! It was for my most recent job interview!

When asked: “What would you do if a student was regularly late for a job?”

Oh, I remember that well.

“90% of life is about showing up!” was the introduction to my State of the Union-esque address, a clinical demonstration on how not to answer things in a job interview.

My bravado and arrogance trumping all poise and professionalism.

I got the job.

I smile.

I was late for my first day of work.



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