OK, no. It’s wasn’t because of my personality! Rude!
Right, so what you have to do is imagine me–only younger and unemployed. About a month earlier I didn’t have to work, because I was on holiday. However, now I was home and I had a credit card that whined gently in the night and needed a new job.
I got an interview with a company I’d worked at before, so I dolled myself up in my best ‘person you can trust with the company credit card’ professional gear, put on make-up, and hopped on the train up to Belfast. I had a book, a travel mug of coffee, and it SEEMED like a good idea.
Obviously, and it wasn’t even unprecedented, I got hooked on the book (I THINK it was the ARC of Merry Gentry?) and missed my stop. Well. ALMOST. After about two minutes I remembered that I was getting off at Botanic and scrambled to my feet.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I panic as I run for the doors and stuff my book and empty cup in the bag at the same time. “Waaaaaaaait!”
Trains do not wait.
It had just started to roll forwards, but the doors were still open. I hesitated. My job interview was in fifteen minutes and a five minute walk from here. If I got off here I could get another coffee (because I needed was to be more jittery) and dander up in plenty of time. There was NO WAY I could do the round trip from the next station.
But the train was moving, so did I have a choice?
“Just jump,” a woman behind says suddenly. “It’s not going fast yet.”
This is true. It’s not. It is, however, getting faster by the moment. I dither.
“You can just step off,” the woman encourages me.
The doors start to close against my hands and I figure I’ll just call on my mobile and tell the Extremely Hot Researcher I’m meeting that I’m going to be—
“GO!” The woman cries behind me and I feel two hands hit me just under my shoulder blades.
The. I think as I pitch fowards. Fuck?
Sort of convinced by her assurance I could do this, I try to just turn the push into a sort of hop. My foot hits the station. I think, ‘I did it!’. Then momentum caught up with me and I went ass over teakettle along the station. I rolled into a wall, lost a shoe, scraped my hands and shins all to hell.
I am not afraid to tell you that I was about to cry.
“Oh my god,” someone yelled. “Are you alright?”
At this point I had just landed, but I sprang back to my feet like an embarrassed cat.
“I’m fine! Ha ha!’ I pant at the worried looking railway employee. “Everything’s fine. Did you see that? Ha ha ha.”
I was so determined not to draw any more attention that I hobbled out of there on my rapidly swelling ankle, power-limped over the road, and went to my interview. I actually got the job as it turned out.
So that’s the story of the time someone SORT OF pushed me off a NOT THAT FAST yet train.