Order 7:17 for Roma Street

"G'day ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to the Think Tank-"

"Uh, sir? I believe the ladies don't quite like the name of Think Tank."

"What are you talking about, son?" the Manager groans.

"Well, sir, the ladies may find it a bit Aggressive, provoking anger into the group."

The oval of staffers that occupy the meeting room all stared at him blankly before returning to the Manager, who stared at the Quiet fellow with a strain in his eyes that could herd cattle, send them to the abattoirs, be sent to a four star restaurant, only to be eaten by the same person who will claim that the meat is too tangy.

"And what would be your suggestion," he said as he argued with the waiter.

"Well, I believe Thought Bubble would be more appropriate," he said a little triumphantly.

Now the Quiet fellow was a happy little chap and likes to do things for the whole, such as find a more efficient tap for the staff kitchen, or maybe reorganise someones desk for them. But after working for long enough within the same position, he has found less for himself with little to do aside from keeping the staff kitchen clean and sending emails asking if there's anything they would like him to help with. Unfortunately, the Manager happened to ask once for help lifting up a desk so he could get his favourite pen out from underneath, and now everyone has placed bets on when the manager will snap under pressure.

The second half of November seems to get high praise, and the kitty has gotten to $131.16 and a half franc.

"Right," the Manager says to keep some semblance of motion going. "To keep our female members of staff happy, this meeting will begin.

"Last meeting we thought of ways to keep some of our customers happy by introducing the Quiet Carriage,"he says as he flips through the folder in front of him. "This is successful enough, with a few complaints saying that nobody has really followed the courtesy, and a handful complaining about the drivers being too loud on overheads and disrupting customers anyway, some at inappropriate times, and one complaint about the stupidity of having an open transition between carriages because it doesn't actually stop the bother that the Quiet Carriage is meant to prevent."

"Well they have a point," agrees the ex-bikie. "Those open doorways are pretty silly."

"But they provide a much nice walk between carriages!" says the Quiet fellow. "They're better than those grimy doors that's usually there that kids are always smoking pot in."

"Yes, well," the manager interrupts. "The quiet carriage is staying for a little while longer, but that's not what we're here for today. We're here to brainstorm some new ways to entice people to take trains more often."

"Well, the colour scheme isn't exactly the most appealing," mumbled a geriatric at the back of the room.

"That isn't going to change,"the ex-bikie responds. "We only just got a new style with that bloody red stripe and range of trains."

"Exactly, we should do something more attractive than that," exclaims Mr Quiet.

"Well we're not going to follow any guidelines from that bloody zoology course you did," the ex-bikie laughs. "I'm not sure anyone would ride something that looks like butterfly shat out a rainbow."

"Now, fellas," the manager says, rubbing the bridge of his nose as his eyes squint like they've sucked on lemons. "They're sticking with the new paint job since they've already invested in it, so no train is going to look like they've had a run in with a flock of lorikeets." Giggles were shared around while the Quiet fellow sunk into his wool vest a little to match his sudden desire to be fairly quiet. His confidence was on such a roll too.

"So what else have we got?"

"Well, we could play soothing music in the other carriages?" suggested the only female member of the staff meeting.

"Most passengers take their own anyway, let alone those who share their music with everyone else," the bikie retorts nicely.

"So what we do is we appeal to the oncoming generation," says the youngest, and probably the most arrogant, voice of the room. "What is it that kids these days like to have?"

"Well they like to talk a lot and listen to music," says the Quiet Fellow.

"Yes, we've established that," the instigator says pulling out his Chinese medicine balls, twirling them in his hands like David Bowie in a Jim Hensen film, the bells ringing quietly but just enough to carry out across the room and bring a gentle and hypnotic silence to the party of mismatched staff members.

"But what else is there? What is it that kids do these days? This music, this talking. They're of the same generation, and it's called Generation iY. They walk around with their Apple gear with the air and confidence that they can do anything they want, because it's the palm in their hands.

"But," his hands clamp and the soothing sounds stop suddenly. "That isn't always the case. Their devices can only be used in confined areas, they are restricted to using them to their full potential.

"So what do we do to entice Generation iY?" he inquires to the world as the toll of his stainless steel spheres begin again. "We empower them. We expand the borders of their restrictions. We are a public service, and we give to the public what they need. Why not give them what they want?"

The instigator leans back, nods forward and his hypnotic allure disappears.

"So..." the manager begins. "What you're saying is... We'll appeal to the kids by 'empowering' their gadgets?"

"How do we empower peoples gadgets?" the Quiet fellow inquires to the world in a desperate and confused plea.

"Well, I don't think he means empower them," the ex-bikie explains. "I think he means giving all the bloody functions to those iPhones and whatever."

"So what function is missing?" the Quiet fellow, a little behind on the times with his Nokia from '99.

"Well," the lady leans forward with her iPhone. "I can connect to wifi and download apps and it won't cost me anything. And my brother likes to keep himself updated with his games and news stuff, which he gets from accessing internet from his iPad."

The room sat in silence for a moment. Slowly, in unison, the group turned their head to the manager. Except for the instigator, who continued to lean against the wall with his arms crossed and his head nodded forward.

The manager, staring at the device that has been placed gently on the table, debated with himself. What kind of a suggestion is this? To get Wifi on the trains? I mean, it wouldn't be hard to get that going because the lines would just go through the power lines, and they'd connect there. And there's plenty of options for people, like the said iDoohickeys, and maybe even peoples laptops.

Though the consequences can be pretty extensive. Kids could get on the net, spend the day on the train and just download as much as they possibly can. Heck, even porn entrepreneurs would have a field day. Everyone accessing it all at the same time while they commute their way across town. It's just asking for trouble.

"What are we? A Fucking Mcdonalds?"


Next thing you know, I'll have a Mega-Mac with fries.