A job I would not mind

I wouldn’t mind driving an urban bus.  I’m pretty sure there are plenty of perks that come with the fantastic factory pay.  There is the power, for instance, that comes with driving the biggest vehicle in town.  There is also networking with people of all kinds, from the street rat weirdo, to the hardworking adult, to the young hung over college student who is writing a paper about this year’s Beer Festival.  There is also the added benefit of being out all day, growing muscles in places which I had no idea could grow.  Yet, the most thrilling benefit of them all is the character building that comes with those remarkable life experiences that only a bus driver could say he has lived them all.

Driving a bus would make me grow.  It would make me grow full of power with the dominion over the road.  Imagine for one second handling the wheel of this enormous device, one so large that it could fit fifty people aboard and still manage to travel faster than the posted speed limits.  Imagine what it would be like to see from above all the angry warriors of the road, so pitiful in their meaningless race for an extra second of time.  Meanwhile, this gigantic machine moves through the streets breaking the sidewalks with its fringe armor, jumping through potholes like a true roller coaster, and even running through red lights while the miserable cars below can do nothing but watch with apathy.  Or is it respect?  Maybe the blue, black, shiny red and silver bugs that drive below look up to the bus like a mighty being, or a king of the road.  Maybe they stay out of its way because the stories they hear of cars and bikes being wrecked by a bus, while the bus suffers merely a scratch, give them  warm, fuzzy feeling of comfort and relief when they manage to stay out of the way of a ten-ton bullet.

Driving a bus would enhance my social skills.  The dreaded low-ridership routes are apparently designed to force excitement, and even a smile, when greeting new riders.  That’s because with only a few passengers a day, all of whom choose to seat on the opposite end of the bus, that one moment for greetings becomes the only moment for socializing — that is, of course, other than the random spurts of well-earned violent language in the presence of stupid drivers on the road.  After perfecting my greeting skills and road etiquette, I could move on to the extreme opposite in a route that cuts through all levels of this city’s segregated society, thus providing limitless opportunities for uncensored chatter.  The ride through downtown and the inner city would prove extremely beneficial, as the constant yelling and turmoil of high school students and the agony of stopping at every bus stop, topped by the constant pressure of being on time, would certainly lift my spirit in a cloud of character-building anxiety (or smug, can’t really tell).  The ubiquitous pot heads and hung over students that roam the city would certainly engage in inspirational conversations throughout the bus ride, covering such important topics as the Beer Festival’s “Most beers in one hour” contest, last night’s strip poker tournament, the collage inspired by hallucinogens and my favorite of all: skipping class for one of two reasons, to recover much needed sleep, or to make out and then recover much needed sleep.  The hard working people inside of the city limits could share their horror stories of foreclosure, gangster fights, political chatter at Starbucks, a lifeless life in the city’s cocoon, or just general bus near-missing adventures.  In contrast, the few people from the suburbs riding the bus would mostly keep to themselves, thus preaching the value of silence at the end of an inharmonious ride.

Driving a bus would alter my ego.  The amount of muscles that a shocking seat can build is amazing, especially in the lower back area.  That is not to say that all muscles would grow in proportion, so an achy side effect could take precedence, one that ergonomics can only dream to eliminate.  The stress caused by these ever-breaking muscles would have an unexpected benefit, though: they would cause so much stress that neck muscles would tighten, solidify like pure quartz stone, and even notch up a little in a fashionable way.  What a side benefit!  Buttocks would build up so quickly that the cushion on the driver’s seat would contour around them permanently.  The best part of all though would be the huge gain in belly mass due to the exposure to seat radiation and an increased consumption of cooked-in-a-minute, eaten-in-ten-seconds food and snacks.  There is nothing like belly muscle to mood-alter a person’s ego.

Adding all the drama and associated benefits, the factory pay for a bus driver is an amazing deal.  Not only are there perks such as new spending habits and medical bills, but also to top it off, a driver’s salary would be more than enough for a comfortable carton house near central station.  Oh, right there, that is another great benefit: a short commute.  It really would not matter anyway considering the longest commute would seem trivial when compared to an eleven-hour shift in a monstrous bus.  So, the pay is great, the benefits are countless, and the opportunities for growth and character building are astonishing.  I guess I really wouldn’t mind driving a bus one bit.

About Gabriel Mongefranco

Gabriel Mongefranco is your software developer for all things data: extraction, integration, analytics and security. He is also a blogger, a poet, a proud father and a faithful Christian. He is always eager to contract with faith-based nonprofits! Learn more.