humans before doors!
The 109 at St Vincents Plaza, not far from the top end of Collins Street.
Another tram tale (there are millions).
At the top end of Collins Street, there is a tram super stop. It’s so super that it actually has a coin machine so you can change your lobster ($20 note) into coins to be used on the coin-only ticket machine supplied on all trams. Super Dooper! Another thing that makes this tram stop super is the expediter. I don’t know if that’s what Yarra Trams calls this role, but what he does is hang around the stop during peak hour (and beyond) shepherding people on and off the tram. This tram stop can get messy because it’s not far from Parliament station so lots of people get off the train, walk to this tram stop and then catch a tram to another city destination. And people get off here too, to go to work. From about 8:00 am it can be disorganised, full of pre-coffee commuters completely fixated on their own destination and too deafened and dulled by the sounds emanating from their ear-buds to remember that there are other people trying to get on and off and (more to the point) other trams coming… any minute now…
So, Mr Expediter shouts at people to move away from the doors. He tells them to get on and off quickly. He exhorts them to think of others. I used to think that he was a good guy. He seems to care, and spouts aphorisms like ‘be good to each other’. He has a piercing voice and a slight accent. He wears a greatcoat, and on sunny days he also wears sunglasses. I think he loses the greatcoat in summer.
My view of him has changed.
Last week, I was on the tram at an unusual time of day (around 2:00 pm) I guess Mr Expediter’s shift had finished, because at the top end of Collins Street he got on the tram. What he didn’t notice as he got on, was the drama unfolding at the back of the tram, where an unfortunate woman had stepped off the little plinth that her seat was on, had somehow misjudged the distance (I think she was lost in a book or something). She fell. A young bloke went to help her and she said she wanted to get out of the tram so he held the door. Well if you know the C Class tram at all (almost exclusively used on route 109) you also know that the doors are just a teensy bit temperamental. It seems like sometimes if you hold your mouth wrong, the doors play up. The young man who had rushed to the rescue of the fallen woman held the doors open for her. How gallant!
Mr Expediter, standing near the door and blocking the fallen woman’s exit when she did manage to finally stand up and get herself going could only say. “Don’t hold the doors open. Big trouble.” The young man tried to explain but the man used to pushing anonymous commuters onto and away from trams every day simply spoke over him. “Don’t hold the doors open.” Meanwhile, fallen woman, helped by other passengers, had verified she was not hurt and was making her way shakily to the door. Out she popped, and was standing by the rail, trembling as she dialled her mobile phone.
Next thing, the driver’s door opens at the front of the tram and the driver strides angrily down to the door that had been held open “Who held the door open?!” he yelled, clearly quite cross. Mr Expediter (who it turns out is not only a bully but also a dobber) points straight at Sir Galahad and says, “It was him. I told him not to, but he wouldn’t listen. Nothing else I could do.” Not only a bully and a dobber but a stereotypical example of the institutionalised public servant-esque defensive aggresiveness that makes all our hearts glad…
So a few of us other commuters stood up for the knight in shining armour, who by this time had sat back down, next to a little old lady who smiled at him and patted his arm, no doubt thrilled to bits to find that there are still young men who will help a fallen woman. It could happen to anyone. “Hey,” we said. “A woman had fallen over and the guy was holding the door open for her. Look, she’s there” [we pointed] “She’s still shaking.”
Mr Expediter spoke up too, just so we could all be sure about what part he played in all of this. “I told him not to hold the door, but if he doesn’t listen, what am I supposed to do?”
At this point I found my fist in the air and I was saying “Humans are more important than doors! He did the right thing! Let it go!” I was on my way to a job interview and this was just what I needed to be sure I performed my best.
I think the driver sensed that if he shouted any more he’d have an angry mob on his hands. Maybe he also saw Mr Expediter as being a questionable ally… so he turned his little key in the door mechanism (this is how they fix these things) and marched haughtily back to behind his sliding glass door, closing it forcefully and keeping us out. He tested the doors and we were off, headed down Collins Street. The woman remained on the platform of the super stop, resting heavily against the railing and speaking into her mobile phone…