Introduction: The Accidental Audience
There’s something oddly theatrical about public transport in Northern Germany. You board the Norddeutsche Regionalbahn expecting a quiet ride through fields and villages, and instead you’re treated to a full-blown audio drama—no headphones required. Some passengers speak so loudly, they might as well be auditioning for a radio play. And while I’d love to complain, I must admit: without their indiscretion, this column would be tragically silent.
The Office Quartet
Four women, seasoned in the art of bureaucracy and gossip, sit in a cluster of seats. Their handbags form a protective circle, their voices pierce the hum of the train. One of them—let’s call her the Queen Bee—launches into a tirade about a young colleague who, mercifully, is not present.
“She’s unbelievably stupid,” the Queen Bee declares. “So dumb, she can’t even speak her own language properly. Born here! And yet her German is worse than the interns from abroad!”
The others nod, sip lukewarm coffee, and lean in.
Grammar Crimes and Trash TV
“She writes emails so badly, I often don’t even understand what she’s trying to say,” the Queen Bee continues. “I tell her, ‘At least learn your mother tongue!’ But she doesn’t. She just stares at me like I’m the problem.”
The group chuckles knowingly.
“And then she asks in the office chat if anyone watched that trashy reality show last night. Silence. Dead silence. Because no one else watches garbage. No wonder she can’t express herself properly.”
The Queen Bee isn’t done.
“She lives in her social media bubble. Believes the wildest nonsense. The other day she told us—seriously—that she believes in chemtrails! And when we didn’t agree, she called us naïve. Us!”
The group erupts in laughter, the kind that fills the entire carriage. A man two rows down sighs audibly. I shrink deeper into my seat.
From Socrates to Social Media
“She once quoted something like, ‘Stupidity used to be a flaw. Now it’s a lifestyle.’ And honestly, she’s not wrong—just ironic.”
But then, in a rare moment of grace, the Queen Bee softens.
“Well, even Socrates complained about the youth. Maybe it’s just a generational thing.”
Final Thoughts from the Unwilling Witness
As the train nears its destination, I reflect on the performance I’ve just endured. Rarely have I felt so uncomfortable being an unintentional witness. Because no matter how eloquent your critique, no matter how sharp your grammar, what’s the point if you lack the basic decency not to publicly humiliate someone who isn’t there to defend herself?
The young colleague may struggle with syntax. But the loud ones? They struggle with empathy.
