I have a theory that the carriage you occupy on the morning commuter train is an indicator of your success, or otherwise, in the workplace.

Front carriage: City Risk Takers; type ‘A’ personalities; more scared of the stigma of being late for work than they are of the risk of a fatal head-on collision.

Second carriage: Neurotic Gym Members; still mainly type ‘A’s, but the ones that have balanced the risk of a possible train derailment with the embarrassment of running to be first through the ticket barriers.

Third carriage: the three ‘B’s – Bikes, Baggage and––later in the day––Buggies.  This is the compartment that stops closest to the lifts at point of departure.

Fourth carriage: the Late-Runners.  You’ve had the previous night out on the razzle; you’re late for work; you just manage to rush to catch the train that departs after the one that you normally would have caught; where do you jump on?  Carriage four.  Hangover Central.  Career forecast: road to nowhere.

Fifth carriage: the Twilight Zone.  Never been in here.  Who does go in here?  Does this carriage even exist?  Doo-doo-doo-doo.

Sixth carriage: First Class.  Need I say more?

Seventh carriage: Über-cool.  Biased?  Possibly.  You’ve weighed up all the possibilities of the head-on collision, the rear-end shunt, the late arrival for work and the prospect of getting a seat, and you’ve ended up here.  World congratulate you.

Eighth carriage: Snook-cockers.  Nowhere to go and going there slowly at that.

Now, you may think that you can move between carriages; that you can suddenly gain office brownie points by switching from coach four to coach one, for example.  You can’t.  You are born to your carriage.

Sit back and embrace it!

© Simon Turner-Tree

Simon Turner-Tree can be found sitting in coach seven.