I propose that women of that mid-life age and beyond shouldn’t be allowed near computer-based machines until properly trained. It’s far quicker for them & everyone around them if they go and speak to a real person. Yes, really. We should put notices up or something.
As usual this morning I arrived at the train station with 10 minutes to spare, to buy a ticket & get to the platform. There was a huge queue for the manned ticket booths (mostly full of people just about to miss the 8.55 to London), so, as a 30-something educated white male nerd, I stepped into the very short queue for the automated ticket machine. Now, this is quite a good piece of kit. It is touchscreen operated, is nice & clear, gives shortcuts to entering common local routes (like Swansea) & takes plastic. OK, you have to be carefull to accurately press the screen, but each pressed button lights orange to confirm. Very straight forward.
So I stood, watching time slip away as two post-menopausal ladies stood poking & prodding the ticket machine to shrill cries in home counties accents of, “This is absolutely ridiciculous!”, & “I’ve been trying to get this to work for 25 minutes!”, etc. Lord only knows how long the poor lad in front of me had been stuck there for. I was just thinking of chainsaws & bloodbaths. Its a good job that you can’t get handy bag-sized petrol models.
So after telling us repeatedly, “It won’t work”, they sidled on to get their tickets from a real-live train-ticket sales person (of which there are many at Cardiff Central), trying to jump the queue & annoy even more people. Impressive. Cue more cries of “This is absolutely ridiciculous!” & “Ooh, my poor oestrogen”. OK, probably not that last one.
Could I have helped them? Yes, I could have helped them by saying, “Go and talk to that nice man over there in the local rail company’s uniform, I’ve got a train to catch”.
Needless to say, the lad in front of me & I bought our tickets in about 45 seconds each. I still had to run for my train, & I hate that.
