THE PLANK OF WOOD.
“ You can’t bring that plank on here” the bus conductor announced. “It’s too long, and it won’t fit.”
The man standing at the bus stop holding the plank of wood looked aghast. Though not very wide, ( it was only a few inches,) it was a very long plank of wood; though not, at least in his view, too long to fit into the bus. He stepped up into the bus and pointed towards the narrow passageway between the seats on the lower deck.
“It will fit in there,” he suggested, “ And I don’t mind if people stand on it, or walk on it. I just want to get it home.”
The bus conductor was not impressed with this suggestion. A long serving employee of the Corporation Transport Division his public duty, as he saw it, was clear. He was, therefore, adamant. “You’re not bringing that plank onto my bus!”
The man with the plank of wood did not, at first sight, appear to be the type of person who relished public argument or controversy. He was rather small with thin features, horn rimmed spectacles, and the sort of diffident manner one normally associates with ineffective insurance agents, or low ranking civil servants. But something in the bus conductors overbearing manner, and belligerent tone prompted within him a sudden surge of public righteousness, and egalitarian principle.
“It isn’t your bus,” he stated angrily, “ It’s a Corporation bus and as such it belongs to all of us.”
“Nonetheless, you’re not bringing that plank on here.”
In any other circumstances the matter might well have rested there but the conductor then made two mistakes.
A much bigger man than his would be passenger, he drew himself to his full height and by taking a step towards the edge of the platform forced the little man to step backwards into the gutter and into a deep puddle of rainwater. He had only intended to emphasise his authority as a bus conductor but his apparent aggression did nothing to endear him to those passengers who were already seated on the bus.
Almost without exception they formed the instant opinion that this particular conductor was a bully, almost certainly a man with fascist tendencies, and possibly even a member of the National Front. Emotionally they began to line up behind the little man who now stood beside the bus stop staring down at his sodden trouser bottoms, and rain soaked shoes. He, for his part, confirmed them in their sympathies by adopting a tone of appeal.
“ But what can I do?” they hear him ask. “ I can’t walk home from here. I live miles away…. and it’s pouring with rain!”
The conductors second mistake was to, then, indulge in sarcasm. “Cut it in half,” he suggested, and, in so doing, alienated any residual sympathies his passengers may have had for his stand.
Someone muttered ‘ insensitive bastard,’ while the little man shook his head. “ I can’t do that,” he explained rain dripping from his peaked cap. “ It’ll be wasted if I cut it any shorter….I…. I need it this length at home…” He sounded near to tears.
“Oh for heavens sake let him bring it on,” a lady passenger sitting near the door exclaimed. “ None of us mind… and it is an awful day.”
The conductor, who was not a man to take questioning of his authority lightly, then turned his annoyance on her.
“ I’m only doing my job, “ he informed her in a loud voice so that all might hear and digest his reasoning. “ Bringing a plank of wood that long onto a Corporation bus would be against company policy. It would be a health hazard, a very serious health hazard. This bus is for transporting passengers… not their various goods and chattels.”
“Absolute rot,” another passenger exclaimed. “ There’s probably nothing in the Company’s regulations about what passengers can bring onto a bus, or not bring onto it. It’s all down to your discretion… or lack of it! You’ve no right to be using the Company’s regulations to justify your own prejudices!”
The lady sitting near the door had begun to rise from her seat and gather her own numerous parcels and packages together. Erect she was almost as tall, and a good deal stouter than the conductor. “ In that case” she announced in a tone reminiscent of Boedicea ordering her Iceni warriors into battle, “We should all leave this bus immediately since we’ve all got goods and chattels.”
For the first time the conductor displayed uncertainty. He imagined numerous letters of complaint landing on the Transport Managers desk and besmirching his so far exemplary record. He turned uncomfortably towards the bus driver who had, thoughout the preceding exchanges, sat silently in his cab beside the bus platform.
“Better drive off now,” he said and the driver looked at him quizzically.
“Are you sure?”
The conductor nodded. “ I’m sure,” and immediately a chorus of noisy disapproval filled the bus.
“You’re not leaving him there are you? In the pouring rain?”
“Ooooh… that’s awful. He wants reporting.”
“I fought a bloody war to get rid of his sort!”
This last remark came from an elderly pensioner with a military bearing and steel rimmed spectacles who looked as if he could still fight a war if the need arose.
The conductor, now thoroughly dispirited by all the animosity being directed at him was about to suggest that ‘ If anyone doesn’t like the way I’m conducting this bus they can always leave,’ when the driver, also somewhat distracted, engaged the gears and sent the bus lurching away from the kerb straight into the side of a laundry van which was trying to overtake on the outside.
The awful crunching sound as metal ground into metal was followed by an equally awful moment of silence before one of the passengers shouted “ He never even indicated… They‘re as bad as each other!”
“ I think I’ve injured my neck,” an old lady sitting at the rear of the bus announced and was immediately assured by her companion, and everyone else sitting around her that she would certainly have grounds for claiming substantial damages for pain and suffering from the bus company.
Moments later the irate driver of the laundry van appeared on the bus platform.
“What the ‘ell did yer think yer were bloody doin’? ” he roared at the bus driver. “ Yer never even bloody signalled.”
He too was assured by almost everyone on the lower deck that he could count on them as witnesses if he brought a case against the driver for driving a public service vehicle without due care and attention.
“ Reckless endangerment I call it” someone remarked.
“ ‘as ‘e even passed a bloody drivin’ test?” someone else enquired.
The driver for his part sat in his cab his normally ruddy complexion suddenly ashen and his hands locked around the steering wheel with shock. He was in his middle twenties, and had only been married for a few years. He had a baby daughter, and his young wife was now expecting their second child. In fact he had only recently obtained his P.S.V. licence, and had just bought a new house on the strength of his increased status and income. All of these lovely reflections flashed before his young mind before an almost hysterical fury welled within him and he too turned on the conductor.
“This is all your bloody fault!” he snarled.
“I don’t care whose fault it is,” the van driver announced starting to collect the names and addresses of potential witnesses. “ That’s a brand new van you’ve wrecked there. Someones goin’ to ‘ave to pay for its replacement.”
The companion of the old lady who had complained about injuring her neck now approached the conductor with a worried expression on her face.
“Do you think, “ she enquired in a tone which indicated an unwillingness to accept any refusal or procrastination on his part, “ That you might call for an ambulance. My friend has just fainted and she does have a very serious heart condition!”
Surveying his bus load of, by now, thoroughly hostile passengers the conductor suddenly went weak at the knees. He couldn’t help it. With horror he realised that events had taken upon themselves an awful inevitability all of their own. It was like watching a slow motion rehearsal of his own demise. Involuntary tears seeped from his eyes and he began to shake uncontrollably. He felt an almost desperate need to lie down or, at the very least… find a public toilet!
As he began to wriggle uncomfortably, and fiddle frantically with the front of his blue serge trousers, the military type passenger appeared before him ferocious of aspect, bristling with indignation, and with eyes glaring.
“ What sort of disgusting pervert are you?” he demanded. “ You’re not fit to conduct this bus or anything else for that matter.”
Meanwhile the would be passenger with the plank of wood continued to stand quietly on the pavement in the pouring rain. He surveyed the chaotic scene before him through rain soaked spectacles. Then suddenly like a man waking from a terrible dream to find the sun is, after all, still shining, and the world is bathed in a beautiful light… he smiled.
He had no need to say anything. Anyone looking at his face knew instantly what he was thinking,
‘ If only you had let me on the bus….!’
THE END.
