As soon as they introduced the Opal card for seniors, officials started to worry. For those eligible, the cost of public transport was to be capped at $2.50 a day. Once a person had made two short trips, any further travel was free. Would this system tempt older citizens to overdo things, leading to serious health impacts?
That’s why the NSW government introduced the Opal Monitoring Bureau (seniors division). Critics say it’s an invasion of privacy, but as someone with a seniors Opal card, I appreciate their kindly care.
I imagine a busy office, with a diligent public servant monitoring my activity. “What’s he up to now?” she might say as her computer pings with the news that I’ve boarded a bus at 7.30am. “That’s a bit early for Richard. I hope he’s not overdoing things.”
During the next few hours, her screen would keep flashing. “He’s caught the Metro!” Next: “He’s tapped off at North Sydney.” An hour later: “Now he’s tapped off at Barangaroo.” Forty minutes on: “He’s tapped onto a bus at QVB, heading for the art gallery! He must have walked all the way from Barangaroo. And with his knees!”
It’s at this point, questions would arise. At which point should she ring my GP? Is there a next of kin who should be notified? Should an ambulance meet me at my next stop – be it bus, train, light rail or ferry?
A thoughtful response is, after all, important for the government’s reputation. By making public transport so cheap for older citizens, the premier has made himself responsible for our health.
What politician wants to face a hostile press conference over the death of a plucky 98-year-old, tempted to go to Bathurst and back four times in one day? You can almost hear the words of the opposition: “If a proper fee had been charged for those trips, a life might have been saved.”
Later, Tim would tot up the savings. “We’re up $63.20,” he’d confide to his wife.
But let’s not ignore the positive stories. Just listen in to the hubbub of voices in the Opal Monitoring Bureau. George and Monique are off to lunch in Cabramatta, we learn. Leo and his friends are on their way to Tallawong, a place they’d never even heard of until they saw it at the end of the Metro map. A small group from the insular peninsula has, just this very morning, decided to cross the Sydney Harbour Bridge. They must be fizzing with excitement.
I’m feeling great. My trip to North Sydney cost $2.50, compared to the normal fee of $5.77. I was making money by the minute. If only I had time for a trip to Gosford, I’d be rolling in it.
Instead, I meet up with Jocasta, a person who refuses to apply for a seniors Opal card. She thinks I’m a scrounger who is sufficiently well off and should be paying full freight and that my possession of this card is “proof I have no interest in social justice”.
I think she’s insane.
We catch the bus from the QVB to the art gallery. We both tap off. The trip costs Jocasta $2.31. My bill is $0.00. I indulge in a somewhat unattractive dance.
We see some art, then catch the bus home. Jocasta’s fee: $4.03. My fee: $0.00. Another unattractive dance.
Of course, back at the control centre, the hard work continues. Earlier, my official had decided against calling the GP and now feels vindicated. The old boy is safely home.
But wait. At 7.30pm, another notification pops up on her screen. (They work long shifts in the bureau.)
“Oh my God, what’s he up to now? He should be in bed!”
Other officials crowd in. The old boy has already caught two trains and four buses. Isn’t that sufficient imposition on the taxpayer? How much money does he want to save?
The computer shows me tapping-off the bus at Central. Through some sort of data-sharing, my destination is revealed: I’m off to an exhibition in Surry Hills.
“Two exhibitions in one day! I didn’t know he was that interested in art,” says one official.
“I don’t think he has any interest in art,” says another. “He just wants to exploit his Opal card. He’s attempting some sort of record.”
Elsewhere in the bureau, others are being monitored. A group of old blokes had travelled from Goulburn to see the footy and were now tapping off, safely home. Tim and Jane had made it back to Sydenham, having visited all 12 of their grandchildren across three modes of transport. Later, Tim would tot up the savings. “We’re up $63.20,” he’d confide to his wife.
Meanwhile, my latest excursion was making alarm bells ping. “He’s overdoing it,” decided the official. She called over her boss. The necessary calls were made.
At the Surry Hills exhibition, I was just about to down my second complimentary pinot gris when the ambulance officers arrived to take me to hospital. I gladly let them carry me out. The bureau was right. I was exhausted.
My hospital stay, should you be interested, was quite short. I have since returned home. Via Newcastle.
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