Finally I’m home. The flight was okay; only a few minutes late. Gatwick was a complete contrast from this morning though – totally empty; a silent cathedral of polished faux-granite and brushed stainless steel. I might have stopped to contemplate infinity for a moment… if I hadn’t wanted to get out of there so much!
While paying for the car park I found myself on the flipside of my attitude of this morning. Having sought refuge from the throng amongst the suited business types at my departure gate earlier on, this evening I was sympathising with the poor teenager taking the flak from a line of rude businessmen because the self-service payment machines in the car park were out of order. There is a difference between complaining about a poor service and being personally offensive to someone who almost certainly has no control over the situation and is only doing their job. These guys were on the wrong side of that line. I was too cowardly to point this out to them though and made do with being extra nice to the ticket guy myself while paying for my eighteen hours. I got a relieved smile for my pains, so felt I’d done good
Anyway: bitching complete and self congratulated. My work here is done; time for bed.
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