Beating A Dead Horse

If my memory serves me right, I'm sure that the subject of designated Quiet Cars on trains, or lack thereof, has already been covered by my fellow Philadelphia HR bloggers (KnowHR & Human Markets). Since those articles have not reached enough people, it’s time to say it again:

If you are on a Quiet Car: this means you are expected to BE QUIET.

Yes that means you Mr. "I’m Going To Cup My Hand Over My Cell Phone".
And you, Ms. "I Will Turn My Cell Phone Off In A Minute".
You too, Mr. "Nobody Tells Me What To Do".
And oh you too, Ms. "Personally Autonomous From The Rest Of The World".

How can this concept be more clear?  There are three signs in the car that can be seen from either side,and signs at each door.  There is an announcement over the intercom designating the quiet car. The conductor walks through and announces it. 

But yet, on my trip to D.C. from Philadelphia last Wednesday, I moved away from a woman who was listening to her voice mails on her speaker phone, and later reminded a guy who was talking on his cell phone to cease and desist. On my trip back to Philadelphia on Friday, the quiet car was a joke: the guy in front of me and across the aisle decided to talk on their cell phones, two women behind me engaged in a conversation in a normal tone, and the ticket punch guy talked out loud to every passenger.  I told the guy in front of me and the women behind me to cease and desist.  The guy across the aisle got the message from the evil eye and sigh that I sent his way. 

But what do you do about the ticket punch guy--the guy in charge here? What that’s expression: the inmates are running the asylum? 

Lately bad service has been working my last nerve.  Maybe it’s sleep deprivation.  Without sleep, humans become a little more cranky and reactive.  But this is why I needed the quiet car. I needed to get some sleep. I needed to not to have my very last nerved worked.

Instead of letting that happen, I pulled out the mp3 player, listened to Broken Bells and the new Yeasayer records, pulled out the netbook and typed out my frustration.  Frustration because each of these folks were adults, the employee who was monitoring all of this showed no accountability, and I felt compelled to spend what energy I had to express my right to have a quiet car. Plus, what was I going to do? Go to a “non-quiet” car? Or say, “stop the train I’m getting off?” 

It sucks when you're stuck with bad service. Like John Bender said, there’s nothing to do when you’re locked in a vacancy.

It doesn’t help either that this horse won’t die, and my arms are getting tired.