Yeah, yeah, yeah….
I booked a car for blocking out part of a car park this afternoon. Wandered off to go and frighten some people into being honest citizens. Came back to the self same car park twenty minutes later to find another idiot had parked right next to the one I’d booked earlier. Not wishing to be unfair, I booked him too.
Just as I’m finishing off the second car, up pops the owner of the first one; a baseball capped, jogger bottom tucked in stereotype, demanding to know why I had booked his car. I patiently explained that he was parked ‘Out of bay’ (Not in a marked parking bay and also preventing others from entering & leaving the car park), which is not allowed in that particular car park. This did not go down very well, but I’ve gotten so used to doing this diplomatically that I ignored the under the breath mutterings wafting my way.
“I was only there five minutes. I went to see me girlfriend with her babby.” (This is a direct quotation) Claims the driver.
“Signs clearly tell you that you have to park in a marked bay sir.” The ‘Sir’ is an automatic conditioned reflex. I’d call a freshly laid turd ‘sir’ if it upped and spoke to me. Driver slopes off muttering coarse imprecations about my sexuality and parentage when he thinks I’m out of earshot. The courage of these people never fails to astound.
I’m just slapping the PCN on the windscreen of the second offending vehicle when baseball capped bozo pulls up alongside in his car. “I’ll catch up with you later.” He snarls at me.
“You will sir, you most probably will.” I respond brightly, trying not to roar with laughter. Just because he dresses like a fourteen year old feral youth doesn’t mean he’s tough. If he was going to do something he’d have done it by now and I’d already be yelling for the cavalry.
Experience tells me that these guys are only tough when the odds are three to one in their favour. More often than not they won’t try anything if there is the remotest chance that the odds in their favour would shorten. Defenceless little old ladies are one thing, grown ups who can see them coming are another. Especially grown ups who can call upon several other big hefty grown ups at short notice.
After a couple of years in the job you tend to get hardened to the threats. You know that the real stuff comes at you stage left without any wind-up. You can usually walk away long before it gets to the stage of real live fisticuffs. Not arguing the toss with a potential assailant is generally the best way to avoid having to pick your teeth out of the gutter. “Yessir, nossir, bye-for-now-sir.” Works for me.
Hi ho. Its all aqueous fluid off the dorsal surface of Anatidae.
Just as I’m finishing off the second car, up pops the owner of the first one; a baseball capped, jogger bottom tucked in stereotype, demanding to know why I had booked his car. I patiently explained that he was parked ‘Out of bay’ (Not in a marked parking bay and also preventing others from entering & leaving the car park), which is not allowed in that particular car park. This did not go down very well, but I’ve gotten so used to doing this diplomatically that I ignored the under the breath mutterings wafting my way.
“I was only there five minutes. I went to see me girlfriend with her babby.” (This is a direct quotation) Claims the driver.
“Signs clearly tell you that you have to park in a marked bay sir.” The ‘Sir’ is an automatic conditioned reflex. I’d call a freshly laid turd ‘sir’ if it upped and spoke to me. Driver slopes off muttering coarse imprecations about my sexuality and parentage when he thinks I’m out of earshot. The courage of these people never fails to astound.
I’m just slapping the PCN on the windscreen of the second offending vehicle when baseball capped bozo pulls up alongside in his car. “I’ll catch up with you later.” He snarls at me.
“You will sir, you most probably will.” I respond brightly, trying not to roar with laughter. Just because he dresses like a fourteen year old feral youth doesn’t mean he’s tough. If he was going to do something he’d have done it by now and I’d already be yelling for the cavalry.
Experience tells me that these guys are only tough when the odds are three to one in their favour. More often than not they won’t try anything if there is the remotest chance that the odds in their favour would shorten. Defenceless little old ladies are one thing, grown ups who can see them coming are another. Especially grown ups who can call upon several other big hefty grown ups at short notice.
After a couple of years in the job you tend to get hardened to the threats. You know that the real stuff comes at you stage left without any wind-up. You can usually walk away long before it gets to the stage of real live fisticuffs. Not arguing the toss with a potential assailant is generally the best way to avoid having to pick your teeth out of the gutter. “Yessir, nossir, bye-for-now-sir.” Works for me.
Hi ho. Its all aqueous fluid off the dorsal surface of Anatidae.
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