I’ve thought long and hard for a way to
describe the quality of these services that we ‘enjoy’ here in our corner of
Macedonia thanks to the irresponsibility and apathy of the employees/management
involved. And the most appropriate word is TRAGEDY. It is not what should be
expected of a modern European country!
My niece
in Sweden tells me that if the local bus should be late by even a few minutes,
you record date, service and delay and the transport company responsible will
refund your taxi outlay. Now that seemed like a bad joke for me two weeks ago
when I had to complain to our local
transport service about the bus flying past my stop 10 minutes early –
there was nearly a sonic boom involved! Kind neighbours gave me a lift so we witnessed
said bus still 10 minutes early rattling into the depot almost empty, since
most of us had missed it L. While addressing my complaint to
the ‘appropriate’ employee, I had to remind him that I was the one lodging the
complaint whereas the volume and tone he was using to me suggested the exact
opposite. His response was that there was no scheduled time for the bus to be
at my particular stop. He’d thought this ruse up and would not budge from it –
despite the fact that there were perfectly good timetables posted around and
online, clearly showing expected times of arrival at major stops, including the
depot as final destination. The
following day the timetable below was posted – showing only depot departure
times while not two paces away was a full schedule. So here’s the thing: rather than apologise and
say they would look into it, he repeated his position at increasing volume,
then went to the bother of creating a bogus program. I did so want to hang a
toilet roll next to it: all he was doing was trying to cover his ass!
You
always know when our bus is arriving, you hear its old bones shuddering long
before it arrives at the stop. The outer bodywork is dented and rusting while
inside it looks like someone has been practising Taekwondo on the interior
coachwork.
Now the real bone-shakers are the ones with wooden seats, but even if they are
upholstered the fabric is more than likely to be worn, cut or stained – or all
three! Clearly, strap-hanging is a luxury not afforded in some sections of the
aisle.
Recently a union message was posted at every
stance of the depot. In it, in fine Marxist terms - where there are no
employees but workers, hallowed and righteous! – the blame for the admitted
parlous state of public transport was squarely laid on management shoulders.
Consequently, we passengers were told we must
not vent our aghanaktisi on the ‘working
drivers’. This Greek word translates as: disgust, exasperation, frustration,
indignation, outrage, etc. I do have to commend them on their apposite lexical
choice!
But one’s aghanaktisi
does not end as one descends from the bus - see our stop below. Wearing good
clothes is not an option unless you want them torn by the overgrowth of bushes on
the main road verges. Certainly, if you’re into bramble jelly and pie then this
year looks like providing a good, albeit dusty, crop! Nor are heels a footwear
option. Okay, I admit, the welly picture is not mine – we don’t have tarmac J !!
But
potholes? We got them by the score and even our stalwart 4x4 sometimes wants to
opt for a 4-faults-and -a- refusal deal. And here I’m moving into the realm
of our local council.
Years ago we residents and owners of local companies
offered to buy the materials to tarmac the road if the council would provide
drivers and vehicles. They refused on the grounds that everyone would ask for
that. No, me neither. So it remains a
dirt track while the council, claiming not to have the funds for such projects,
continue to collect our levies with no returns for us in terms of the quality
of life. Each house is allowed one electric light on the road and some areas
appear to have been designated dump-as-you-like spots. A neighbour was reported
for piling his garden debris high just at a road junction, thus rendering it
blind for oncoming traffic. He tore up a served summons and continues to build
detritus towers!
Why am I being Joan the Moan? Well, it’s because
we’ve just had local and Euro-elections last week-end; this week-end we have a
re-run for some local councils whose results revealed no strong outcome; and
the E-election results have brought forward general elections to July. To
continue the trash topic, that means for three consecutive months we will have been
subjected to the claptrap, drivel and poppycock of politicians, unions and
campaign teams.
The word
tragedy has an interesting derivational
history. It was used in Ancient Greece to describe the public performances of
song and dance in honour of Dionysus, god of wine and fertility. It literally
means goat-song.
Spitting Images used to represent Margaret Thatcher’s
cabinet ministers as sheep puppets.
Clearly ours are goats. It really is a tragic state of affairs!
