Wake Up, Coll
by Angus Shoor Caan
Genre: Memoir
Swearwords: A few mild ones.
Description: A little light revenge.
_____________________________________________________________________
Colleen and I took the induction course at the same time, indeed, we were paired up for the ridiculous role playing scenarios we were subjected to. At the end of it all we passed out as carriage cleaners for British Rail. Since we both lived in the same town, it came as no surprise to us that we became part of the same cleaning gang.
I had a job already, on the grip, cleaning windows and gutters, but the dole had dragged me in to explain why I was claiming the dole and reportedly working at the same time. I got away with it, but it was a close call, too close for comfort. I scanned the local paper that same night and that's how I ended up a carriage cleaner.
At the time, the last train rolled in at double O thirty five so we were done and dusted by one....ish. Three hours work, hectic as it was and paid for the full shift; not bad. That meant I was in my scratcher for one thirty and up with the wife at eight for a cooked breakfast and out on the windows, weather permitting. The dole left me alone then because I was cards in and no longer signing on. No problems handling both jobs either, 'piece of piss', I remember saying at the time.
Coll and I became the greatest of friends through time spent together and I very often picked her up and dropped her off on work nights. I didn't think it possible to be just mates with a girl but that's how we were. No real hint of sexual shenanigans although there was always the opportunity for such. Coll met my wife and I met her boyfriend and we socialised from time to time; we all got on.
Six months in and I sold the window cleaning business. A new firm had moved into the area and a friend told me they had been canvassing and undercutting my prices. Rather than go head to head with them, I fronted up to the main man and told him it would be better for all concerned if he bought me out, he agreed. I named my price and he named his and we bartered until we met in the middle, both of us coming out of it smiling. They were particularly happy to acquire my schools and offices. I kept my ladders, mind, some of my regulars don't care for change and I was happy enough keeping my hand in.
Coll read out an internal memo during a break and we both decided to move up in the world, filling out application forms for platform staff positions.
More induction, this time to make us more aware of the movement of trains although we knew most of it. The whole exercise was merely for the benefit of those applicants from outside the industry, 'off the street' as they say.
Neither of us lasted long on the platform, I think because there could be any number of bosses arriving and departing, a case of too many cooks, it was a busy station.
Guards school came next after another internal memo invited applications. With British Rail, as with many industries at the time, the old toe in the door tended to open further doors and a climb through the ranks could quite easily be plotted.
Being a guard suited me fine, I was my own boss and the couple of hours break in the city let me scour the second hand record shops, music being my main thing away from work. It seemed to suit Coll too, although we didn't see so much of each other at work. Still, we made up for it by socialising that bit more on days off etc.
Eighteen months as a guard flew by. I felt yet another move was imminent but didn't get the chance to discuss it with Coll since I had to drop everything to attend an uncle's funeral back in Scotland, land of my birth. On my return, Coll announced she had applied for the position of driver and had been given a date to start training. I didn't fancy being a train driver, having attended a couple of in-house inquiries whereby the drivers in question were put through the mangle, the powers that be trying to shift the blame of whatever incident had taken place. God, I even felt guilty when they grilled me about the driver's actions and it was really nothing to do with me. Instead, I joined the ranks of ticket inspector, a decent hike in wages and an opportunity to spend time at other depots and to explore their surrounds; shops, pubs, betting shops and eateries, I enjoyed it.
Coll became a driver and claimed to love it. She was always more for trains than I ever was. She gave me a copy of her schedules and we often met up for whatever meal suited the time of day.
I became a team leader on the inspecting side of things, more money again, and Coll took to minding learner drivers at certain stages of their training. That meant our meals would often be threesomes with whoever she was minding at the time. We were still huge pals but I could now see a change in her, a difference in her attitude and behaviour.
Suddenly, Coll was a driving inspector, a definite move towards the management side of things. We saw less of each other and she even stopped calling my wife for what were once regular half hour chats. My wife thought we had fallen out but I assured her that wasn't the case, verified when they bumped into each other in the middle of town. My wife also saw a change in her.
I broke two fingers on my right hand by falling off a late night bus.....pished, of course. I slept on it and crept in to work the next day and made sure I had a couple of witnesses to my 'accident'; it meant five weeks off on the sick. Halfway through my sick leave I was called in and questioned vigorously about my 'accident'. Since the only person I had confided in about the con was Coll, and since she had recently accepted a desk job on the management side, I put two and two together and decided she had turned bad on me; rightly so as I found out later. I was disappointed to say the least.
From then on my job seemed to be beset with problems, bad reports and complaints against either me or my team, the majority of them totally unjustified. I pulled in a few favours and made the move to the comms office, communications. I knew it beforehand but I soon came to realise that comms was in a field of its own and more or less irreproachable, management having little or no say in daily operations and therefore less likely to interfere or rock the boat.
By then, I had it on good authority that Coll had stuck me in regarding the broken fingers, and the bad complaints; we were no longer on speaking terms, her own doing, and rumour had it that she was shagging someone high up, hell bent on fast-tracking herself through the management ranks. She was already on a substantial salary with a monumental pension scheme thrown in. She also moved house, out to the outskirts of town, the posh end. I didn't know exactly where but found out by accident when the wife saw her swapping spit with the dude she was shagging, she was seeing him off to work on her day off in just a dressing gown and slippers.
We, the wife and I, weren't invited to the house-warming/meet the neighbours party, but I was told she could be heard bragging about her lofty position within British Rail.
In comms, I have access to the whereabouts of any engineering works on the go and am therefore responsible for having such entered into the weekly and periodical notices drivers and guards have to sign for regularly. The railway line, both local and inter-city, runs behind Coll's new house. There's a sharp corner not two hundred yards away so I invented a big engineering undertaking just around the bend, which meant drivers would have to sound a whistle warning on approach, I also had it signposted directly behind Coll's house to make sure they didn't forget.
I'm told her new man is decidedly grumpy at work these days, and that she herself has bags under her eyes through obvious lack of sleep. You see, trains run through the night. One of a train driver's great delights is in sounding the horn when normal people are in bed, so, as well as having interrupted sleep during the night, Coll has increasing numbers of angry neighbours to contend with. Serves her right for shitting up my back.
Swearwords: A few mild ones.
Description: A little light revenge.
_____________________________________________________________________
Colleen and I took the induction course at the same time, indeed, we were paired up for the ridiculous role playing scenarios we were subjected to. At the end of it all we passed out as carriage cleaners for British Rail. Since we both lived in the same town, it came as no surprise to us that we became part of the same cleaning gang.
I had a job already, on the grip, cleaning windows and gutters, but the dole had dragged me in to explain why I was claiming the dole and reportedly working at the same time. I got away with it, but it was a close call, too close for comfort. I scanned the local paper that same night and that's how I ended up a carriage cleaner.
At the time, the last train rolled in at double O thirty five so we were done and dusted by one....ish. Three hours work, hectic as it was and paid for the full shift; not bad. That meant I was in my scratcher for one thirty and up with the wife at eight for a cooked breakfast and out on the windows, weather permitting. The dole left me alone then because I was cards in and no longer signing on. No problems handling both jobs either, 'piece of piss', I remember saying at the time.
Coll and I became the greatest of friends through time spent together and I very often picked her up and dropped her off on work nights. I didn't think it possible to be just mates with a girl but that's how we were. No real hint of sexual shenanigans although there was always the opportunity for such. Coll met my wife and I met her boyfriend and we socialised from time to time; we all got on.
Six months in and I sold the window cleaning business. A new firm had moved into the area and a friend told me they had been canvassing and undercutting my prices. Rather than go head to head with them, I fronted up to the main man and told him it would be better for all concerned if he bought me out, he agreed. I named my price and he named his and we bartered until we met in the middle, both of us coming out of it smiling. They were particularly happy to acquire my schools and offices. I kept my ladders, mind, some of my regulars don't care for change and I was happy enough keeping my hand in.
Coll read out an internal memo during a break and we both decided to move up in the world, filling out application forms for platform staff positions.
More induction, this time to make us more aware of the movement of trains although we knew most of it. The whole exercise was merely for the benefit of those applicants from outside the industry, 'off the street' as they say.
Neither of us lasted long on the platform, I think because there could be any number of bosses arriving and departing, a case of too many cooks, it was a busy station.
Guards school came next after another internal memo invited applications. With British Rail, as with many industries at the time, the old toe in the door tended to open further doors and a climb through the ranks could quite easily be plotted.
Being a guard suited me fine, I was my own boss and the couple of hours break in the city let me scour the second hand record shops, music being my main thing away from work. It seemed to suit Coll too, although we didn't see so much of each other at work. Still, we made up for it by socialising that bit more on days off etc.
Eighteen months as a guard flew by. I felt yet another move was imminent but didn't get the chance to discuss it with Coll since I had to drop everything to attend an uncle's funeral back in Scotland, land of my birth. On my return, Coll announced she had applied for the position of driver and had been given a date to start training. I didn't fancy being a train driver, having attended a couple of in-house inquiries whereby the drivers in question were put through the mangle, the powers that be trying to shift the blame of whatever incident had taken place. God, I even felt guilty when they grilled me about the driver's actions and it was really nothing to do with me. Instead, I joined the ranks of ticket inspector, a decent hike in wages and an opportunity to spend time at other depots and to explore their surrounds; shops, pubs, betting shops and eateries, I enjoyed it.
Coll became a driver and claimed to love it. She was always more for trains than I ever was. She gave me a copy of her schedules and we often met up for whatever meal suited the time of day.
I became a team leader on the inspecting side of things, more money again, and Coll took to minding learner drivers at certain stages of their training. That meant our meals would often be threesomes with whoever she was minding at the time. We were still huge pals but I could now see a change in her, a difference in her attitude and behaviour.
Suddenly, Coll was a driving inspector, a definite move towards the management side of things. We saw less of each other and she even stopped calling my wife for what were once regular half hour chats. My wife thought we had fallen out but I assured her that wasn't the case, verified when they bumped into each other in the middle of town. My wife also saw a change in her.
I broke two fingers on my right hand by falling off a late night bus.....pished, of course. I slept on it and crept in to work the next day and made sure I had a couple of witnesses to my 'accident'; it meant five weeks off on the sick. Halfway through my sick leave I was called in and questioned vigorously about my 'accident'. Since the only person I had confided in about the con was Coll, and since she had recently accepted a desk job on the management side, I put two and two together and decided she had turned bad on me; rightly so as I found out later. I was disappointed to say the least.
From then on my job seemed to be beset with problems, bad reports and complaints against either me or my team, the majority of them totally unjustified. I pulled in a few favours and made the move to the comms office, communications. I knew it beforehand but I soon came to realise that comms was in a field of its own and more or less irreproachable, management having little or no say in daily operations and therefore less likely to interfere or rock the boat.
By then, I had it on good authority that Coll had stuck me in regarding the broken fingers, and the bad complaints; we were no longer on speaking terms, her own doing, and rumour had it that she was shagging someone high up, hell bent on fast-tracking herself through the management ranks. She was already on a substantial salary with a monumental pension scheme thrown in. She also moved house, out to the outskirts of town, the posh end. I didn't know exactly where but found out by accident when the wife saw her swapping spit with the dude she was shagging, she was seeing him off to work on her day off in just a dressing gown and slippers.
We, the wife and I, weren't invited to the house-warming/meet the neighbours party, but I was told she could be heard bragging about her lofty position within British Rail.
In comms, I have access to the whereabouts of any engineering works on the go and am therefore responsible for having such entered into the weekly and periodical notices drivers and guards have to sign for regularly. The railway line, both local and inter-city, runs behind Coll's new house. There's a sharp corner not two hundred yards away so I invented a big engineering undertaking just around the bend, which meant drivers would have to sound a whistle warning on approach, I also had it signposted directly behind Coll's house to make sure they didn't forget.
I'm told her new man is decidedly grumpy at work these days, and that she herself has bags under her eyes through obvious lack of sleep. You see, trains run through the night. One of a train driver's great delights is in sounding the horn when normal people are in bed, so, as well as having interrupted sleep during the night, Coll has increasing numbers of angry neighbours to contend with. Serves her right for shitting up my back.
About the Author
Angus Shoor Caan is in an ex-seaman and rail worker. Born and bred in Saltcoats, he returned to Scotland after many years in England and found the time to begin writing. He has a number of publications to his name, including Coont Thum and Tattie Zkowen's Perfect Days, both of which have been published by McStorytellers.
You can read his full profile on McVoices.
You can read his full profile on McVoices.