I dream about all of the scenarios that might go wrong. My ultimate nightmare is driving the biggest bus and I hit a pedestrian or a cyclist. I wake up in a cold sweat and find it difficult to sleep again.
It may sound like negative fantasy but it is actually very probable. One of the places I drop off/pickup from is a little square, with an odd one way exit system, that coexists with pedestrian/cyclist dual use paths. When I try to pull out of there to turn right, I have to wait for a green arrow on a green light, whilst some pedestrians and cyclists use the walk signal to cross parallel, to the right and the left of me. Others use the signal to cross in front of me. Trouble is, the walk zone timing in front of me is not the same as the one crossing parallel to the right and left and the right and left zones are not the same measurement either, due to turning and traffic flow needs.
Cyclists particularly, (and we all know my rage about the fact that they shamelessly use the road when it suits them and the cycle/pavement/walk crossings when they look quicker, instead of just picking one option and sticking to it), tend to look at green crosswalk illuminated figures at just one walkway and assume it is the same, rather than the actual one in FRONT OF THEIR EYES, IN THE DIRECTION THEY ARE ACTUALLY GOING. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve nearly hit somebody dashing in front of my bus as I am moving off, in response to my green arrow.
I even saw a woman in a car hit a cyclist once at that spot and I would place double to none odds that it wasn’t her fault. She looked destroyed by it, as I would.
Anyway, forgiving that digression, I had bad nightmares last night; some of them about that and some of them about the day’s tour.
I went to BF’s house last night and decamped at 1.30, back to my own place. I haven’t been asleep since. My mind is ticking over, trying to see how I could have managed the tour better, whilst desperately trying to avoid any sense of discrimination that the person of little stature might have tried to latch onto. She literally only came up to my thigh and must have weighed one third (if that) of most people and, yet, she was drinking the same amount as all the rest of her group of 17 young, boozy arseholes.
I am also worried that the other people on the bus, the ones that were actually there for the wine tasting, got shortchanged. Because I couldn’t juggle the needs and expectations of all parties involved (the ones that wanted to get as drunk as possible; the ones that genuinely wanted wineknowledge; the ones that wanted a scenic tour, with history included; my boss who wants the income; my own desire to smack senseless the annoying drunkards): pretty much nobody ended up being happy. Particularly me.
My job may be exhausting and lowpaid and downright messy at times but it does make me revist things and redo them in my head and sometimes those activities lead to a better outcome for everybody. And sometimes they don’t.
And it is my responsibility to work it out, and I can’t, and I haven’t, and that makes me feel a huge failure.