Memoirs from the Hound- The Man in Charge of The Hound

 

Greyhound just has a guy that yells at you instead of a wet floor sign

My New Job

I stood at the door of the Charlottesville Greyhound Station in a bit of awe. The only Greyhound customer service representative I was aware of in this entire city just finished lecturing me for not knowing to check for a wet floor before walking into a place of business on a blustery-cold Virginia night. (Read MoreHere) I had no idea of my responsibilities to check to make sure they put up a sign to let customers know if their floor was wet or not.   He followed up his lecture by announcing," If anybody comes for me, tell them that I will be right back. "

I couldn't have devised a better opening scene for a book if I devoted forty years of my life to plotting the perfect beginning. I was inside the Greyhound for ten minutes. I was already scolded, and the guy in charge appointed me as head of Customer Service as he was apparently going out for dinner. He could have been going out for midgets and strippers as well for all I knew.  

     As man in charge of the Hound, it felt easy to make new friends right from the beginning of my new shift. I didn't know about any delays and other important information about the buses. But, I suspected the standards for my service would be a bit low. I also felt a bit of burning excitement about my chance to tell my new customers the story of getting scolded by the CSR guy, and watching him leave for midgets and strippers. Ok, I was going to improvise the last part.  I felt it was ok to ad-lib the ending since I was in charge.

I daydreamed a bit more about how I am going to take my duties as the new Greyhound CSR. “Is it going to be like when I worked at Hertz Rent a Car when I just gave everyone a free rental if they complained about anything? Is anyone going to believe the midgets and strippers tag on the ending of the Customer Service guy’s story? So many questions to be answered in time. “

It's not an elephant. It's just a woman with dirty hobbies. 

        

       Suddenly, I heard elephant footsteps and felt a blast of cool Fall air surge into the door behind me. "Well, what do we have here? My first customer? What if I don't know where the customer service manual is? Oh right. I don’t care. I just want to tell people that the CSR guy literally bailed on his job and left me in charge. More importantly, I can't wait to tell them about midgets and strippers." 

I turned around to meet the eyes of a woman that looked remarkably special.  One of the compliments I get most often from people is that I don't usually judge people. However, it gets really hard not to judge people when you're at a Greyhound station and  you have just been yelled at by the CSR Guy. 

I immediately started thinking of ways to judge her without even realizing it. For some reason, I started making guesses about her hobbies. The word Dirty Hobbies came into my head.  From inside the walls of the Greyhound, I guessed that dirty hobby #1 was smoking cigarettes. I could picture the packs of Marlboro boxes stacked in her apartment for miles. My nose went slyly searching for the scent of stale cigarette smoke coming from her black leather jacket to confirm my suspicion. 

Instead of inhaling her stale Marlboro Cigs, I caught the whiff of a female perfume that could only be described as ‘Old Spice for Ladies.’ I suspected the ‘Old Spice for Ladies’ was simply used as a deterrent from the more authentic scent of  smoke coming from her Dirty Hobby #1. As I gazed further into the ruggedness of her rugged black eyes, my mind raced to speculate what is her Dirty Hobby #2.  The story coming from those same black and worn-down pupils read to me like a memoir , “Stories on The Greyhound. “ 

I wasn’t thinking of proper and heroic stories of bus drivers saving babies from burning buses either. I was guessing stories of fist-a-cuffs between Greyhound Bus People and 7-11 Parking Lot people in some place like Memphis, Tennessee.

She proceeded to test me in my new position as  guy in charge of the Hound, "Well, where in the hell is the darn customer service people? My bus is supposed to be leaving in less than an hour, and I can't even check in yet. Oh Brother! Here we go again, Greyhound." 

   A bell went off in my head before I faced my first task as guy in charge of the Hound. One of her dirty hobbies had already been confirmed, at least in my head.  I declared my new friend an avid Greyhound Rider. 

I tried to hide the smirk on my face as I threw my hands in the air, "I don't really know where the dude in charge went. He yelled at me for walking on his wet floor, and then asked me to basically cover for him while he appeared to be heading out for dinner. I think he even mumbled something about midgets and strippers. " 

Without hesitation, "Yeah. I'z a tell ya. I been riding these darn buses for as long as I can remember and nothing surprises me anymore..."

"Is that right? I would love know some more stories about the Hound. “

She told me she would tell me all the stories I wanted to know when she comes back from smoking a Marlboro.

“Ding Ding Ding, another dirty hobby confirmed. She’s a smoker.“

Another set of customers came into the lobby as I waited to ask her more investigative questions about her past trips on the hound. I told my customers as new man in charge of the Hound, “Some CSR dude left about 20 minutes ago after he yelled at me for walking on his wet floor. He said something about midgets and strippers as he walked outside. I think he was heading for dinner also. ” They didn’t even bat an eye as they headed to examine some of the pamphlets in the Tourist Information window.

When Old Lady Becky came back inside the Hound after a smoke, I quickly tried to get some juicy Greyhound stories out of her. I attempted to comfort her by telling her I planned on writing a memoir of my upcoming four day journey on the Greyhound. She chuckled as she told me that she could write a book herself. I asked her for her best Greyhound story of all time. She said, "Well, we got in an accident once and the driver of the bus tried to fight the driver of the car that hit her from behind.That was pretty interesting."

She scratched her bleached blonde hair as she tried to remember a few other trips, "Or, let's see. I got one.  There was the time that I was waiting in line to get on my bus and I predicted with 230 people waiting for a 60 seat bus that I was going to get bumped off the bus. And, wouldn’t ya know it? I was right. I got bumped and it took me four extra days to get to Orlando from Virginia."

I listened a bit longer to her tale. I wanted I to get better.  I could only think,  “She seriously might have been able to walk faster from Virginia to Orlando. “

With thirty minutes to go until the scheduled departure time for the bus and not an official Greyhound customer service person nor a bus in sight, I could feel the uneasiness in the air. People started checking the time and rolling their eyes in disgust,   “The Greyhound is late again.  “

One of the ladies in the waiting room seized the opportunity for drama by starting to rile everyone up. She had already named me 'Ole Security Guy.' Apparently in her head security guys walk around Bus Stations telling customers that the CSR guy is out prowling for Midgets and Strippers.  Then, she pointed at me, “Ole’ Security Guy over here might not have been kidding about our Greyhound dude being out of the office partying with midgets and strippers right now. I wouldn't care. But,  Damn!I gotz to get to Orlando by Sunday. I can't be missing no busses and shit. “

Next Week

In the most unsurprising plot twists of all time,  I will tell you that our bus was delayed.