28 October, 2013

Written by Harry Roberts on CSS Wizardry.

Fair warning: This is a completely off-topic and personal post; no CSS
architecture advice, no performance tips, no geeky stuff at all.

At the weekend, Naomi and I found ourselves in
Scarborough. We were both speaking at #TIDE on the
Friday, and were due to return from Scarborough on the Saturday. We boarded a
train in the afternoon and headed back to Leeds—where I live—with a view to
heading to Newcastle—where Naomi lives—from there. We’d have a pretty tight
turnaround hopping from train to train in different cities, but it should
certainly be doable.

We got back to Leeds just fine. We were planning on heading to the Lake District
on Sunday (the next day) to climb a mountain or two, so I had to go back to my
house to pick up a tonne of stuff. We were booked on the 1708 train to
Newcastle, and still needed to pick our tickets up from the station. This is
where things started to turn a little pear-shaped.

Anyone who’s ever had to pick up pre-paid train tickets before will know that
you need to insert the debit/credit card you paid with into the machine, as well
as providing a booking code—that the train company email to you—in order to
have the tickets printed. Time was really ticking; it just hit 1700 and the
train was leaving in eight minutes. Naomi’s phone decided it would be the
perfect time to play up and not fetch her email with the booking code in it, so
we had to get my phone out and log her into the GMail website. I placed her
phone and purse on top of the ticket machine whilst she used my phone and I
gathered our luggage, of which there was a lot (two cases, two backpacks, two
pairs of walking boots, a giant handbag, coats and more).

Once we finally got our tickets printed, we grabbed our stuff and started to
sprint for the train. As we passed the departures board we spotted 1708
Newcastle … 16A. Dammit. Platform 16A is right at the complete other side of
the station, the Newcastle train never normally leaves from there. We ran as
fast as we could and hopped onto the train with a matter of seconds to spare. We
had seats booked on Carriage D. Odd, there’s no Carriage D. Ah well, we were
just glad to be on the train! Then, the announcement:

Welcome to the 1708 Trans-Pennine Express service to Liverpool.

Damn. That’s not Newcastle. We were on the wrong train. It turns out that there
are two trains that leave Leeds at 1708; one to Newcastle and one to Liverpool.
We were on the wrong 1708 (which explains the unusual platform and the lack of
Carriage D).

We worked out the next station was Huddersfield, about 25 minutes away, so we
could hop off there and make it back to Leeds and start again. Naomi looked in
her bag for her phone, to check the time. Shit. It wasn’t in her bag. It was
still on top of the ticket machine back in Leeds. Along with her purse.

Not only were we barrelling along in the complete opposite direction, to the
complete wrong city, Naomi had lost her phone and purse (containing cash, cards,
ID…). Everything that could have gone wrong had done.

As an interesting aside, we tried to log into the iCloud website on my phone so
that Naomi could use the Find My iPhone tool; Apple hijack iPhone visitors and
show them a stripped back version of the site which allows you to do nothing of
any real use. The iCloud site was completely useless to me on my iPhone.
Mobile users do not want different content, Apple!

It’s important to note that we both realise everything was entirely our own
fault; rushing about, not reading departure boards thoroughly, me leaving her
purse and phone on top of a machine rather than keeping hold of it. Entirely our
own fault.

Huddersfield

We arrived in Huddersfield and Naomi went straight to the customer service desk
to ask if they could phone Leeds station directly (there are only 0845
numbers online) and report/enquire about a lost phone and purse. The guy (we
didn’t manage to catch his name) was incredibly helpful; he rang around, waited
for a call back, and came to find us to update us. No good news, but he was
incredibly helpful.

We waited in Huddersfield for the next train back to Leeds (which, annoyingly,
continued on to Newcastle). Then it dawned on me; our tickets we were clutching
were for a specific train with specific seats at a specific time. They weren’t
transferable for use on any time train, and the only train we could legitimately
use them one, we’d missed. Anyone from the UK knows that train tickets are not
cheap, and the ones we’d paid for were now totally useless. Buying two
last-minute tickets to Newcastle from Leeds was going to be a costly affair.

We tried calling Naomi’s phone a few times, no answer. One time we called it
sounded like someone hung up the call on us. We were pretty resigned to the fact
that someone had probably taken it for themselves. That’s what people who find
expensive phones and purses full of money do, right?

We were in the wrong city, with a missing phone and purse (two incredibly
costly, important and personal items to lose), with two useless train tickets,
and the realisation that we’d have to buy two more. Not the Saturday we were
hoping for.

Back in Leeds

We got back to Leeds feeling completely dejected, resigned to the fact that
Naomi was missing her phone and purse (and all that was in it). The train
tickets were the least of our worries, really. They were a solvable problem.

We walked toward the automatic ticket machines in the hope that the purse and
phone would still be sat there but… nope. Obviously not. About an hour had
passed and Leeds is a very busy station. The phone and purse had been spotted
and had gone.

Naomi turned toward the manned ticket booths and bam! In one of the windows,
a woman was serving a customer with the purse and phone sat there next to
her! The feeling of relief was amazing.

We joined the back of the queue (we’re British, after all) and waited until we
were at the booth. We spoke to the woman who verified that it was actually
Naomi’s stuff and she handed it over. It turned out a girl (who didn’t leave her
name, unfortunately) spotted them both and handed them both in. The money was
still in the purse, as were the cards, the phone was intact. Everything was
accounted for! We couldn’t believe that someone had been so honest. It’s sad to
admit but… you never expect that. We thanked the woman profusely, tried to get
our heads round our luck, and then walked off, stunned.

Getting back to Newcastle

The next problem we had was the fact we were holding invalid tickets and looking
down the barrel of a very expensive, train-shaped gun. We went to the customer
information desk and explained our situation:

1. We’ve just had a total nightmare hour.
2. We were meant to be on the 1708 to Newcastle, we got on the wrong 1708.
3. We also lost a phone and purse so had to come back to Leeds.
4. We’re now an hour or so behind schedule and holding onto invalid tickets.
5. What are our options?

It’s important to reiterate that the above was all our fault. No one owed us
anything, no one was obliged to make anything right for us. We also made the man
at the help desk very aware of the fact that we knew this, and that we just
wanted some advice, not handouts or favours.

He explained that, yes, our tickets are now completely invalid; they were for
specific seats on a specific train at a specific time, all of which we’d missed.
He was going by the book, these were the rules, and it was entirely our fault we
were in this situation. We completely accepted that. We didn’t argue or kick
off. Our only remaining option was to spend £91 on two new tickets on the next
train to Newcastle. It sucked, but I guess that’s the price you pay for being
careless. Plus, the iPhone and purse we could have lost would have been worth
far more than £91. Given the situation, we were already in some bizarre kind of
profit.

We thanked him very much for his advice, and were about to set off to buy new
tickets with our tails between our legs, when he suddenly grabbed his phone and
said Wait a second. We had no idea what was about to happen.

He made a call to someone, and asked them to meet him, with us, on the station
concourse.

It’s worth noting that man helping us (who I shall keep anonymous) worked for a
completely different train company to the one we needed. He had even less cause
to help us than anyone else, yet he was making a call for us to ‘sort something
out’. He asked Naomi and me to follow him to meet this other guy, and said that
he couldn’t make any promises. I couldn’t stop thanking him for any help he was
giving us, whether it paid off or not. I was so grateful that, despite
everything being entirely our fault, this guy was helping us out so much. He
turned to us both as he walked and he said You know why I’m helping you? It’s
because you’re polite.

It’s because you’re polite.

He went on to explain that he normally deals with righteous, self-entitled and
rude individuals that think that everyone out there owes them something. That
they aren’t accountable for their own mistakes, and that people should run
around making everything right for them. To me, these are some of the most
annoying people in the world. I do everything in my power to make sure I’m not
like this and I know full well that Naomi is the same. The guy helping us was
grateful of the fact that, despite our sucky situation, we remained polite and
calm and decent. I have always been this way, and throughout my life a lot of
people have commented on how polite I am. I have my parents to thank for this;
they brought me up knowing that manners are everything. They tell you a lot
about a person, they have the power to make or break someone’s day, and they
cost nothing. You could lose everything, your health, your house, your car, your
money, you could lose almost anything, but you can always keep your manners.
Always.

I was so amazed that just being polite—something I know Naomi and I are as a
matter of course—was so much to this guy. What I see, and expect, as normal
behaviour, was enough for this man to call up a friend and reign in a favour for
two careless individuals. I was very proud of me and Naomi at that moment, but
also really pissed off at all the rude people this guy must have to deal with
day-to-day.

We went and met the second guy, who was just as awesome. The two were friends
who’d worked together a while and they had some great banter and the four of us
just had a bit of a laugh whilst they worked out how to sort our situation for
us.

The second guy (again, anonymous) helped work out a plan of attack for us so
that we could get home without having wasted one set of tickets and having to
buy a whole new set. It involved him writing a note for the conductor of the
next train to Newcastle (due in two hours’ time) explaining that if the
conductor needed to verify anything, he could find him on a particular platform
in York, where he would be in two hours’ time.

We couldn’t believe that two people went so far out of their way to help us out
when everything was entirely our fault.

After we sorted the logistics of everything, we all stood about for a few
minutes having a chat and a laugh. They asked what we did as jobs, and then they
shared some of the horror stories from them own; verbal and physical assault
included. For these guys, two polite people seemed like such a breath of fresh
air, and that sucks. We thanked them profusely, took their names, and said out
grateful farewells. The second guy left us with: It’s not a big deal. His
‘not a big deal’ was a huge deal to me and Naomi.

Anyway, with a two hour wait, Naomi and I grabbed some food and sat just stunned
by how helpful people had been to us. The whole encounter reaffirmed two main
things for me (after ‘don’t be so freaking careless’):

1. Be polite. Always. Being polite is just the right thing to do—and I find
   I have very little time for anyone who isn’t—but this is a prime example of
   how manners get you everywhere. We could have ranted and demanded help from
   these guys and we’d have just been shut down; they’d have read us the rules
   and called security, and we’d still be £91 down. Because we remained polite,
   we ended up in a situation where all our problems were solved and we gave two
   guys a refreshing change from the norm. We treated people with respect and
   got nothing but respect and help in return. Do not be impolite to people,
   especially when you’re in the wrong. This means things like not yelling at
   the person on the other end of the phone at your insurance company when
   you’re making a complaint; it’s probably not that person’s fault, and they’ll
   just treat you exactly as you deserve.
2. A small effort from you can mean the world to someone else. The two guys
   made a point of telling us it wasn’t that big a deal, and that it was ‘no
   problem’; a few minutes of their time translated into a huge saving for us.
   Do small favours for people, because you have no idea what that might mean
   for them. A few small moments of your time could mean huge things for someone
   else.

Going home

We finally got moving, on the later train to Newcastle. We presented the
conductor with our story, our tickets, and the note that had been scribbled on
the back of one of them by [redacted]. The conductor smiled and said Yeah, I
know [redacted], great guy. and let us on our way without question. He was
a great guy, and I love that other people know this about him. Being polite
makes people have fond memories of you, being a jerk does not.

Then, when we got to York, we couldn’t believe it but [redacted]—who was there
as he said he would be—actually got on the train, came to find us, and asked us
if everything had gone smoothly! He left the platform he was stationed on and
made a point of coming to check we’d made it on the train safely and were on our
way. Unbelievable!

I’m really proud of, and grateful for, so many people in this whole story:

1. The girl who handed in the phone and purse intact. Thank you so much, whoever
   you are. You rekindled our faith in humanity.
2. The man who helped us at Huddersfield by ringing the Leeds station.
3. The woman who held onto the phone and purse for us in Leeds station.
4. The two guys in Leeds station who did everything they could to help us.
5. The conductor on the train to Newcastle who saw us on our way, despite our
   unusual circumstance.
6. It feels wrong to say it, but I’m proud of Naomi and myself. Or rather, I’m
   grateful of the way our parents raised us. Manners and politeness just come
   naturally to us as a result, and it works. I’m really glad I’m like that.

So, the next time you’re tempted to give someone a hard time, think about
whether they deserve it, whether they owe you any favours at all anyway, and
whether a slightly different approach might yield a much more favourable result.

I know the above seem like very 21st Century, first-world problems—and they
were—but it was a potential loss of hundreds of pounds, and a few peoples’
smaller actions completely undid and remedied that, and not one of them owed us
that favour at all. It was ‘because we were polite’.