This morning, I realize the role of Steve will be played by a pre-pubescent uptalking teenager.
In my head, I make the announcement just like they do on Soap Operas.
My voice is deep.
I never understood how there could be an announcement to replace an actor/actress on a soap opera and somehow all of us are supposed to be ok with it?
How are the actors ok with it? What is that?
Some type of good acting?!
I wonder if that could happen at work, on days where you don’t feel like going in, that you could substitute with some random character.
I mull this over.
I wonder if my coworkers would notice if I wasn’t there?
Perhaps a combination of me being the office introvert and their lack of perception might do the trick.
I can’t even pretend to be introverted.
Maybe I could try to be one for Halloween.
That would require not getting a costume and becoming an elective mute.
I’m so smart it scares me.
This train is currently making noises that I’m uncomfortable with.
I look around to see if anyone else is having a similar reaction and realize it’s only me in here.
Maybe it’s a case of the Mondays.
Do trains get Mondayitis?
I don’t mind Mondays. If you like what you do for work, it’s something to look forward to.
It helps that the next two Mondays will be days off for me.
Earlier this morning, as I pranced around the Hamilton Go Station, I made a couple of astute observations.
What a relief.
It took a few months, but at least it’s in working order.
Or is it?
This machine does not look like it would dispense anything other than aggravation and despair.
I’m particularly amused by the fact that it’s chained in place.
I’m not sure what broken candy machines go for on the black market, but I hope it’s at least a quarter.
Why the machine on the right charges 25 cents and has the nickel logo on it proves this machine is having an identity crisis.
Moving on, we have this sign:
I mull this over.
I’m pretty sure Hamilton doesn’t have a Self-Serve reload machine.
If I won back all the money I’ve invested in commuting, it would be quite the windfall.
If I didn’t commute, I wouldn’t have a blog…and somehow based on my diluted, arrogant perception of reality, this would cause a series of events that would lead to the next Great Depression.
At least for me anyway.
I would be bored en route to work if I didn’t take the time to write.
I decide to ignore the sign and line up to add funds to my card with the lovely Presto card lady.
I’m not trying to keep her identity a secret.
She really is a lovely lady. I just suck at remembering people’s names.
I can recall entire conversations but names seem to escape me.
I then ordain people with names they should have that make sense to me.
Presto card lady seems fairly self explanatory.
I’m probably one of the few people that actually makes eye contact with her, so when she sees me, she smiles.
I tend to have that joyful effect on people.
As I end up in front of her counter, I notice her new outfit.
“Hey, is that a new uniform?!”
My observational skills are top shelf. Aside from that irrelevant name part.
She glances down at her outfit;
“Yeah. Company issued. They were supposed to be rolled out in October, but then everyone was having issues with fit.”
I tell her “I really like them, they’re sharp!”
Maybe it’s because the pin stripes remind me of a baseball uniform and I’m sorely missing the baseball season.
It’s kinda like if the Rockies and the Yankees combined their uniforms and you could call the new team the Yankees or the Rockies.
“The white shirts were hard to keep clean.”
That’s probably true.
I tell her again, that I really like the uniforms, that they look good.
She says “Well, the staff think they look like pajamas!”
“Maybe that’s why I like them so much! They remind me of going back to sleep!”
I laugh out loud.
A visual of Bananas in Pajamas playing baseball dances in my head.
Maybe I do need to go back to sleep!