No, that's not train bashing, just a bit of scolding by a frequent business traveler for a small, aggressive clientele of ICE passengers.

Specifically, seat reservers under power.

There are plenty of free seats in the open-plan car, and only a few seats are illuminated to indicate that someone is about to board in X or Y.

Otherwise there is free choice of seats.

That doesn't bother the man, who is goose-stepping down the aisle, building himself up in front of the young woman who is lost in Excel spreadsheets: I reserved the window seat!

Ursula Kals

Editor in business, responsible for "Youth Writes".

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On the journey to Frankfurt, many window seats are free with a view of the vastness of the Westerwald.

But the man asserts his rights with a perseverance, as otherwise only Bavarians chase unsuspecting tourists from the regulars' table.

Frightened, the woman unplugs herself, tucks the laptop under her arm, juggles the coffee mug and finds a free table for four.

Drunk with the pride of a conqueror, the man flops onto his reserved seat, as if he defiantly wanted to mark his fellow travelers like a three-year-old: my place, my territory, my rights, my wagon complex!

I paid for that.

I deserve it!

The varnish of civilization is thin.

This is by no means about an overcrowded train and standing room alternatives in front of foul-smelling toilets.

When everything has jerked itself back together and the voyeuristic spectators, grateful for a little change and the absurd interlude, are playing on their mobile phones again, the groundskeeper receives a call.

His rumbling voice gives way to servile whispering: "Yes boss", "will not happen again, boss", "I'll take care of it, boss".

Aha.

So a very small number in office life.

Classics, we all know those types.

Those listening nod to each other.

In the Nine to Five column, different authors write about curiosities from everyday life in the office and university.

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