Train manager types
There's a myriad of train manager types, but they all fall somewhere along the same continuum, which is marked at either end by Mr. Officious and Too Nice. Both are extremes, but you'll be surprised how often you see the polar archetypes on your journeys.

Mr. Officious
On every commuter route there is a Mr. Officious train manager. Their presence is as guaranteed as big Toblerones in airport duty free shops. Their demeanour and attitude is similar to car park attendants, traffic wardens and bouncers. They love their uniform and would dearly liked to have been a Sergeant Major in the army, shouting at lesser mortals with impunity. Still, he can pretend by getting his wife to iron a sharp crease down the front of his trousers and he can shine his shoes until you can see your face in them.

The best bits are getting to play with an official bunch of big jangling keys, being able to wear a radio-y type thing and a cumbersome ticket machine which takes all major credit cards - these things confer status and power, especially when someone's payment is rejected. Not quite the same as a state-issue machine gun or bayonet, but the next best thing in peace time Britain.

How to spot Mr. Officious
Mr. Officious doesn't smile as this portrays weakness and in any case he doesn't have a sense of humour. His hair will be cut short, but not close cropped (don't want to look like a yob) and he'll have a distinctive dislike of teenagers who he believes should do National Service for extended periods including getting up every day at 5am in the morning and washing in ice cold water. There'd be no rioting if he was in charge of the Met Police. Oh no. He'll be shorter than the average man on the street, but hey, famous leaders of men like Napoleon and Alexander the Great were of the diminutive persuasion. His set of dangling jangling keys will be prominently displayed. The chip on his shoulder will be clearly visible. 

He has a little wifey at home but no children. It never happened. Her fault probably. She doesn't have a job because it's important that she looks after the house so it's sterile clean, and she can fully pander to his domestic needs. She must remember to prepare his dinner at exactly the required time each night and put freshly cut cheddar cheese and Branston pickle sandwiches in his tupperware lunchbox, along with an English apple and a Tunnocks caramel wafer biscuit. She doesn't mind this as he's out all day thank god, (she can't bear to think what it'll be like when he's retired and at home). He allows her to go to Bingo on a Wednesday, so life's not too bad really. Also he gave up sex ten years ago, so she doesn't have to perform any servicing in that department any more. In fact he doesn't really like any hanky panky at all, and wishes television and newspapers weren't so full of it. He was a keen supporter of Mary Whitehouse. A glorious woman prepared to face down the authorities in the midst of a tidal wave of smut. No one has picked up the baton since. He's considered taking the vacant role but he has his career to think of.

Too Nice
Too Nice just wants a quiet life and is very sympathetic to the commuter's problems. He loves trains and the railways. It has history and it's tangible, not like working in an office fiddling about with e-mails and bits of paper. He harbours ambitions to be a train driver, but doesn't want to be pushy. He'd also dearly love to do some train spotting in his spare time but is too self conscious. He's likely to have lived with his Mum for a bit too long into adulthood but in essence he's a really nice guy, albeit invisible.

How to spot Too Nice
They're fairly difficult to spot as they aren't a physical 'type', but you can always tell them by their demeanour. They're quiet and a bit shy and retiring, speak softly and try to blend into the background. They smile and apologise more than most people and live on the fringes of society, not quite managing to join in. While others have a good time or go to exciting places, it never quite happens for them. He did go with his work colleagues to the pub once after his shift finished, but he didn't understand any of the jokes or the banter and he could only manage half a Stella before defaulting to orange juice with two ice cubes.

He thinks that he's destined to be an observer and not a participator for the remainder of his life. Oh well at least he has his job and to him it's important and in a patriarchal way. He feels the train carriage is the only place he has any control and views commuters as his guests for the journey. Their safety and comfort is his priority. A good day is one that's gone as smoothly as possible with no confrontation, delays or faults in the system. Good stewardship of a train should be invisible. If his work is not recognised it's a huge compliment.