My railway apprenticeship: Day two

This day was the second of my apprenticeship at father's railway offices, and it commenced again in a dreadful spirit -- one which I fear I may become accustomed to. I believe that the moon was still hanging in the sky when father's secretary, Ms. Agatha Myrtleberry, awoke me with a piercing cry, and I had been hustled into our carriage before even rubbing the sleep from my eyes!

Well, perhaps I am puffing up the morning's events a tad, for I did have occasion to fashion myself in the garments of my choice, namely the same handsome tweed overcoat and frilly stockings that father forbade me from wearing to the fox hunt. Moreover, in anticipation of spending the day imprisoned in father's private office, I was able to secrete away my set of marbles, with which I planned to amuse myself. And upon our arrival at the ghastly offices, there was little I would have liked more than a cheery game of Spans and Snops to brighten away the gloom of the carriage ride. Alas, foul fortune would not have it; this second day of my apprenticeship would see neither respite nor pleasant distraction, but consisted instead in constant motion.

Upon disembarking the carriage, I was met by a Mr. Frippleton, a thin little man with translucent skin and a tremendous mole situated smack in the middle of his bald head (producing an effect that is so objectionable, I considered offering the man my own periwig with which to cover it). Mr. Frippleton oversees the delivery of messages throughout the railway offices and he greeted me with the unhappy news that I was to be conscripted into his army of couriers. I immediately launched into a protest, but Frippleton cut me short, explaining that -- although he wanted no more of my company than I did his -- father had insisted upon my assuming this duty as a means of learning the workings of the various departments.

There are a number of unpleasantries associated with the role of courier, and my simultaneous realization of them hit me with such a force, I nearly went into a swoon. It should first be noted that I am not at all cut for the company of couriers; they are of a much lower caste, and the eldest among them is no more than half my age! Moreover, delivering messages is a punishing task, demanding a constant flitting about between floors.

Yet one tribulation proved crueler than all the rest, for it came to me disguised as a blessing. The building that houses father's railway offices is one of a few in the city that employs a mechanical lift, a marvelous invention that father had installed after a case of the gout left him with a limp. When measured against tramping up and down the stairs, the use of a lift at first seems a mercy. But the price that such convenience commands is far too great.

For, as you may be surprised to learn, dear reader, that one does not travel in a lift alone. In addition to the lift operator, one is forced to share the vehicle with a host of other passengers -- sometimes as many as six or seven at a time! This can make for quite a motley crew, and during any given ascent, you may find couriers, secretaries and Chinamen all riding in the same lift. Given such unhygienic company, my day spent traveling between the floors left me in a sordid state, with my tweed overcoat and frilly stockings all besmirched with their soil and stench!

I have instructed the lift operator to build a lock into its doors, and once he has done so, I shall take sole possession of the key. Because I had to share it, Ms. Myrtleberry shall be up all hours scrubbing my pantaloons, and I am sure that the sound of her labours will disturb my sleep. If, God forbid, my apprenticehip sees a third day, I intend to spend it on the lift alone.

 

Comments

[Rod Munch]

Sir, I find it appalling that you must be put in such a position. I see a solution though: Petition the landlord of your workplace to install a service lift for such "undesirables."

I must admit I don't have the class and superior breeding that you do, but I reply to this to demonstrate that though I have the breeding of a field rodent, I do serve a purpose on this celestial ball that is our domain.

[Fop Groupie]

I HEART YOU!!!!!!

[rhymes with thyme]

dude, your friggin hysterical, seriously never stop this blog and write more frequently. you make my day at work a much more pleasant experience.