My main fear today was that I may end up falling asleep on the train journey home, I didn’t imagine that wouldn’t be a problem because I’d spend the whole journey crying…
I may have just been tired and over-emotional, but today has been pretty awful and quite the graduate reality shock. And it is not even 3pm yet.
We had yet another under-staffed and crazy busy evening, meaning that we were running behind again when it came to the open. I got more injuries too – the day before I’d burnt myself near my left elbow which blistered, and today I got several cuts and scrapes on my hands and squashed my thumb (the same one I’d done the other day) between a fry station and a hard place.
The worst part about these injuries is that the same place that gave me them also literally rubbed salt in them.
Due to all of the above we finished work late, again, and as I left I looked like such a state: spillages on my trouser legs, grease, salt and hot chocolate on my top with a pong of great and a jumper thrown on top I bought a breakfast meal and practically ran to the station to catch the next train (thinking I’d missed the first one at half 5).
I got to the station where I had to use a side entrance to gain access to the platform as the booking room wasn’t open. I crossed to Platform 2, passing two girls that looked like they’d been there all night, and settled on a bench. I had loud music in my ears in attempt to wake me up and leant forward on the bench to see down the tracks for oncoming trains.
There was in information on the screens on the platform other than the time but a colleague who had to do the same journey during the week had told me the first train was at half 5, which I’d missed, so I expected it’d be here soon. How wrong I was.
Just after 6am a member of staff arrived at the station to start opening things up. She told me that because it was Sunday service the first train wasn’t until 8.02am. My first thought was, ‘why are they running Sunday service?’ – night shifts jumble up your days. I then sat an counted how many hours sleep I’d get if I walked back home and slept and got a later train vs how many hours I’d get if I just waited. I decided to just wait.
I spent two hours on the platform sat curled on the bench, protected from the hammering rain and listening to my iPod while reading (something I never do, but I needed to stay awake).
When I eventually got on the train the conductor came round and I asked for a ticket to Chatham. My attempt to pay by card failed: declined. This is only the second time I’ve ever been declined and the last time I was due for a Student Loan, I don’t get Student Loans any more. This is a disaster. I had no other card and only change in my purse. The bloke rolled his eyes and walked away without saying anything else. I started silently crying.
How was I going to get back to my house? I was planning to take out money for the bus when I’d gotten to Chatham, but now it seems my rent coming out had maxed out my overdraft (despite the fact I had managed to pay for McDonald’s when I’d left work). All sort of situations were going through my mind, and the tears kept flowing.
I was so embarrassed, tired, stressed and confused. I had a brainwave though and text my dad who lives near the station and gas two young children who I’d hoped had woken him up by now – thankfully he replied and picked me up from the station to take me home.
Dad could immediately tell something was wrong and I cried while he hugged me tightly and banded me a tenner. I was relieved, but still fighting back the tears. He sensibly asked how I was going to get to my interview in Ashford tomorrow, which I hadn’t thought about, and then gave me another ten pounds before I got out the car.
As as soon as I walked through the front door my mum walked down the stairs confused as to why I was only just getting in, she thought I was already sleeping upstairs. I told her everything and started crying while she gave me a hug.
I went upstairs to get ready for bed and heard my sister get up for work, she was late. I decided to quickly ask her whether she is coming home before the BBQ later as I’d be too busy sleeping to text her but she snapped at me and I went and cried myself to sleep. I am a mess.
She then rubbed salt in my wounds by waking me up when she wasn’t even home. She rang me to tell me to bring stuff up to the BBQ for her later, she didn’t understand why I was asleep anyway, to which I snapped at her. I couldn’t get back to sleep after that.
Things can can only get better, right?
Gradual Realities 