So it's rush hour and basically people are running to catch the bus or train. And it's raining, then hailing. All with massive gusts of chilly wind. People seem well dressed this evening, but it's miserable.
And the displays at Britomart station are all saying the next trains are two hours away. This throws me as in it's 24 hour time so I wander round thinking I've got 20 minutes. Then I realise the time doesn't make sense and it's not for hours - walk to the mezanine level and there's masses of people swarming around on the platform below. Go upstairs and ask the lady in the information booth at the ticket counter if there are delays of two hours. And she says, "You'll have to go downstairs and ask them". But, I explain, it's saying two hour delay - is that right?. "I don't know, you'll have to go downstairs..." But, I explain, I want some information about the trains. "I don't work for Violieaiu [or whatever the fuck they call themselves now] I work for..." She wouldn't be working there for a second more if I had anything to do with it. You would be out the fucking door lady. You get off your fucking fat arse and waddle down there and have a bullshit conversation with some fucking liar Veoliaeuo idiot about what the fuck has happened in the Newmarket-Bermuda Triangle and then you waddle upstairs and tell us about it - because lady, that's the only fucking thing any of us want to know.
So anyway, fellow commuters, that's when I swore (not nearly loud enough) and stormed off with arms flailing briefly in exasperation and defeat - walked out towards the bloody rain, and the bloody wind, and the bloody buses.
If you can't hear the burbling, crackling, English-as-a-second-language, echoing PA system announcing whatever indecipherable excuses and whatever, then neither can we.
Pick up your fucking telephone or whatever and ask them what the fuck is the estimated time of the next trains out. That is the one piece of information that the information lady at the information desk ought to be able to answer rapidly and accurately. She is situated in the very next booth, seamlessly in fact to, or really in, the ticketing counter. Situated in the Britomart railway station. All the other bullshit - it can weight. Tourists who want to know about photographing Kiwis, or someone wanting a bus to Howick or whatever can get fucked - what is the status of the train system NOW? I don't care if you work for Bobo the alcoholic clown, I don't care if you work for MOTAT, if you are in the information booth and there's some bullshit with the trains then I expect you to know. If the trains are fucked for this evening (and they've been fucked for decades so why should this evening be any different) the commuters have to make immediate decisions about catching buses or cabs or whatever. Without having to be told by you, lady, to go down to the platform to be told the information that you should have known in the first place. It's called: I N F O R M A T I O N. Try providing it sometime. People will thank you for it.