Shift Report: The Case of the Conscientious Cyclist

 

Back on the late shift. Delightful.

Naturally, the peace was shattered by a train operator with far too much time on his hands and an apparent aversion to stationary objects. He spotted a bicycle. On the platform. Minding its own business, not bothering anyone.

In fairness to the youth who left it there, he was acutely aware that venturing onto the afternoon peak-hour Underground with a full-sized pushbike is a cardinal sin. Eager to comply with the rules, he made the executive and spectacularly expensive decision to simply lock the offending machine to a platform post. Classic London move.

The operator, utterly scandalised, flagged it to the Fat Controller (I’ve no idea if the man is actually rotund, but he commands the airwaves with the booming, disembodied authority of Sir Topham Hatt himself).

"Hello guv, shift that bike from my platform."

 "No can do, boss, it’s locked."

 "Ah. Get the ERU to cut the lock off."

 Bureaucracy groaned into action. I phoned some people, who phoned some other people, who eventually phoned me back to confirm the cavalry was coming. Half an hour later, three blokes from the Emergency Response Unit materialised, radiating pure, unadulterated fury at having their viewing of Coronation Street so rudely interrupted for a bike. It took them less than sixty seconds to brutally murder the lock. Then I dragged the liberated bicycle into my minuscule office for safekeeping.

Then came the twist. A remarkably polite young man crept up to my window. "Sorry to bother you, but someone has stolen my bike."

I relayed the tragic saga. Instead of the usual subterranean screaming match, he actually apologised. Multiple times. He accepted the demise of his very pricey lock, thanked me, and wandered off into the night. Absolutely unprecedented behaviour on the network lately.

Normally, anything dragging me away from a freshly brewed cuppa plunges me into deep, resentful despair. But writing it up, I felt a genuine pang of pity. The poor lad was only trying to be a good citizen, his two-wheeled companion hadn't actually inconvenienced a soul, and it ended up costing him a fairly expensive looking lock. A tragedy, really.