My New Jacket, Part Two

It's many moons ago that I wrote about my new jacket. To recap, it was a high-vis jacket with orange and yellow fluorescent panels, reflective patches and lots of pockets. I'd bought it vis-a-vis my new job in the warehousing and manual materials handling sector.

 (About the "vis-a-vis", I apologise for any groans but I find the pun irresistible)

 That blog entry was about the "Sod's Law" condition. About having invested in my new yet unappealing career it seemed that my white-collar career was about to resume. Well it didn't. I wore the jacket for the jobs at Indesit and Kuhne & Nagel. Both of those jobs ended when it became apparent that my age and general fitness did not allow me work at the pace set by the Polish workers aged twenty-something alongside whom I was employed.

I went from there to a local transport company where I laboured in my jacket for three months or so, delivering and collecting loads in one of their seven and a half ton lorries. I didn't mind the hours, which started early and went on long into the day. But I didn't like the lorry and I didn't like the firm. Bluntly, I have never felt so abused and exploited and, to be honest, so put at risk. I walked out after some egregiously inconsiderate and exploitative behaviour on their part.

Most recently I have started work as an agency driver, collecting and delivering cars on behalf of the demonstrator fleets of Ford, Volvo, Honda and Peugeot. You will have seen those adverts where they say "Book a test drive now!". Well I'm one of the guys who delivers the demonstrator car to your door and picks it up again a few days later.

A typical day involves a pre-dawn start at the depot, where hundreds of cars are lined up on the roads and runways of a retired cold war military air base. I collect the keys, add some fuel and set off in a pretty new Ford, Volvo, Honda or Peugeot. Once I've got to your door I give you the keys and some paper work and leave you to enjoy the test drive.

Usually, the second part of the day requires me to make my way elsewhere to pick up another car at the end of its test drive and return it to the depot where it is serviced, valeted and parked to await its next booking. The trip between the delivery and the collection can sometimes be accomplished by enlisting the help of another driver who might be working in the area. More usually I make the trip using public transport while wearing my fluorescent orange and red, reflective jacket. Which is where this story begins.

Another rail or bus passenger sees me standing at a bus stop or railway platform clutching some official looking documents, smartly dressed in a white collar and tie and high-vis jacket. In the mind of this other passenger I represent authority and knowledge and a source of help or counsel to the bewildered traveller. I am approached and asked a question about the schedule or routing of the public transport service. Usually the required scrap of knowledge is not available to me either unless I am using the same service in which case I can meet this request with courtesy and confidence. Usually the request is met with a smile and a polite "I'm afraid I have no idea." The latter response evokes confusion and suspicion. I watch the bewildered traveller's eyes as they look me up and down for a second time. In this second appraisal they note the lack of an ID tag, or a logo or emblem embroidered on my tie. Then a look of comprehension dawns. "I'm sorry, you don't actually work here do you?" is uttered. "Correct!" I respond and we're both happy to break off this brief acquaintance while the bewildered traveller seeks aid or information from elsewhere.

Thus my new jacket confers not just warmth and protection from the elements, and not just protection from inattentive drivers in the darkness of a pre-dawn car park. It also confers an air of authority and knowledge which draws these attentions to me like a white coat would when worn in a hospital corridor. In my usual attire of a business suit or jeans and rugby shirt many people see an fat, balding middle-aged bloke. Thus judged, I become socially invisible, people ignore me or look right through me. But add the fluoro jacket and I become socially visible, a friend if not a confidant. Someone with whom eye contact and a conversation is not to be avoided but sought out instead.

One young lady, an attractive young lady too, approached me on the platform of Doncaster station only yesterday. "How can I get to Oxford?" she asked. What I should have said was "Work hard and get really good grades in your GCSE A levels". What I actually said was "Go and ask that man over there, the one with the whistle and the purple tie." I know what to say the next I am asked.