Anyone who feels a little gloomy at times, whose moods can become stuffy and grim because even summer here resembles autumn, the farmers in this country seem to rather run amok than food and it sometimes feels like the Dutch are piling it up gold and coins are more important than the reception of war refugees, such a person should actually stand in line for an hour at the train simulator of the Dutch Railways.
I promise: within fifteen minutes you will have lost all the invisible cotton wool in your head, look to the future with hope again and walk home whistling, regardless of the amount of sad drizzle that patters down outside.
The train simulator is an attempt by the NS to combat the staff shortage of 1,100 employees. Like many sectors in the Netherlands, the railways are suffering from the shortage on the labor market and to solve this problem, the company decided to place the train simulator normally used to train drivers at different stations for a month and a half. in an effort to recruit new souls.
I myself arrive at Deventer station, where the simulator was located this weekend, with a bit of anger. This is partly because there are fewer trains running between Amersfoort and Deventer due to a shortage of personnel, but mainly because halfway through the journey, and after reading a number of articles about the tight labor market, I suddenly start to doubt my own future. After all, as a columnist I belong to one of the few Dutch professions where there is a surplus of employees, so maybe the world will benefit a lot more from me if I become a driver?
But as soon as I round the corner and see the queue for the train simulator, that ambition evaporates. Not only is the line much longer than I expected, there is also such enthusiasm that I immediately realize that I can never match it.
There are at least twenty delighted men and boys, and one woman, all waiting with enormous but moderately restrained energy until it is finally their turn. ‘When we were setting up at half past nine, there was already a line here,’ says driver Paul Hartog.
One of them is Jürgen, a former truck driver who is now at home with a burnout and waiting here in solitude, but nevertheless has an indelible smile on his face. And not a subtle smile, but more as if someone is making inaudible jokes on the assembly line that are only intended for him.
In front of it again is Henrie, a fifty-something whose grandfather was an engine driver, but took a different path himself. At first it went okay, but since he notices that time mainly gives him a lot of wrinkles and disappointments, he thinks more and more about the work that used to be so wonderfully beautiful. That is why he left Almelo extra early this morning, so that he was sure that it would be his turn today.
You might detect something sad in his story, but as soon as Henrie takes a seat on the boxcar, and starts firing questions at engineer Hartog with an insatiable curiosity, there is nothing but hope and dismay from his face, as if he were ten again and sitting next to his grandfather. ‘This is track 7 from Amersfoort, isn’t it? Yes, I recognize track 7. Ooh, so cool.’
After him, it is Gelf’s turn, a nine-year-old boy who has known for ages that he wants to become a machinist when he grows up. He and his father came from Emmeloord especially this morning to finally try it out for real.
Now I also know that when you experience something for the first time, your brain automatically adds the feeling of surprise to the actual sensation, causing you to overestimate the actual happiness for the rest of your life. But still, I’m starting to doubt a possible career switch again when I see Gelf’s face driving a train for the first time. The kid, to quote Simon Carmiggelt, beams like a jubilee listening to his farewell speech.
As he pulls up from Utrecht station, and the real world gets closer and closer to his dreams, the driver gives him advice. “The red signal is always on the right, so you have to watch out for that.”
“Yeah, I already knew that.”
“You know a lot about it, I hear.”
‘Yes. I’m just a big fan of trains.’
Whistling, I walk home that day, and don’t even notice that it is drizzling outside.