How corrupted has my view on the world become? Tainted by over 25 years in a competitive corporate
environment, coping with the screeching pitch of urban life.
Thus I wondered, sitting in a regional bus that took me into
the countryside. Questioning my own surprise at people simply being friendly and
patient.
How was it possible that I had been startled by the mere fact
that people said “thanks, goodbye” when getting off the bus, that I had been
astonished that the driver answered, too!
And this was not just about the cosy familiarity of lifelong village-neighbours.
Because, actually, the public on the bus was quite varied: Polish
and Asian women riding out the city to their cleaning job in the suburbs, commuting
schoolchildren, elderly couples doing their daily shopping.
How was it possible that I was amazed at the bus driver’s patience
with an old man’s perilous procedure to get off. The old man was dressed as if
for an outing ( incl. a neatly starched “pochette” handkerchief) and one could
only admire his daring. Because simply leaving the bus was quite a feat for him
– slowly shuffling to the exit, ensuring a firm grip of the door’s handle bar, cautiously
descending the steps, foot by foot, then doing an elaborate rebalancing on the
ground, turning and finally grinning victoriously before sedately moving on.
And
all the while the bus driver had been intently watching the old man’s manoeuvres
in his rear view mirror, making sure the doors didn’t close before he
had gotten safely out.
Later on, at the annual corporate seminar in a lakeside
hotel, I was to engage in earnest discussions on how to improve productivity
and performance. I was to publicly worry
about project-deadlines, privately worry about not being up to scratch, about
not being able to play the corporate game for another 15 years, at least.
But in the evening that same bus would be waiting for me at the local station. It would take me home though dark forests, an illuminated capsule propelled by a considerate driver. And when I would get off at the first Brussels bus stop, I would wave and shout “thanks, good night!” to the driver.
4 comments:
Wat een prachtig fragment van dagelijks leven. Dank je!
weliswaar niet frivool :-)
's Avonds in een autobus door een donker bos rijden, het is een mooi begin voor een boek. En dan dat meer.
Een kleine kanteling in perspectief, en zelfs het avondlijk Zoniënwoud wordt mysterieus...
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