Just another day at the office
Senior Manager arrives just as I’ve walked out of the mess room door to go on patrol. I’m about five minutes early out on the beat, three of the other guys aren’t so fortunate. The rest of us got out early and scattered. Anything’s better than a ‘pep’ talk from someone you know doesn’t care for anything but your beat statistics.
This morning sees me cursing and swearing under my breath at the school run drivers, as I try to get them to behave like grown ups. This proved to be a frantic fifteen minutes. However; I was composed enough about it to quote Walter Scott when a passing member of the public said. “Don’t you get fed up with those idiots?”
“I look at it this way sir; better one crowded hour of glorious life than an age without a name.”
“Very philosophical.”
“The job does tend to make you that way.” He left with a bemused look on his face. I have that effect on people sometimes.
About an hour later I turn a corner to see an RTA and traffic backing up, so I pitch in and help out by persuading car drivers backed up in a small queue to turn around and direct them down another street. PC49 has turned up, as has an Ambulance and a couple of squad cars, and treats me to his usual piss take. “He’s on double yellows – going to nick him?” He says, indicating the crashed vehicle.
“Nah.” I rejoinder. “You guys can do him for obstruction.” Its what passes for humour in our circles.
Just before lunch I am waylaid by a blue rinse in a Mercedes who begins to pepper me with questions about the why’s and wherefores of the parking restrictions and why we Enforcement Officers patrol late at night and isn’t it a Government fund raiser? Feeling particularly evil, I pass over Parking Office’s direct line on one of their visitors cards. She can waste an hour of their time.
After lunch the weather turns wetter. It rains, it hails. It even tries to snow. I get soaked. I meet up with one of my oppo’s and we lurk at the top of a stairwell in one of the Council’s multi storey car parks, watching the shower pass over. Officially we are patrolling the car park; unofficially we are drying out. Radio traffic dwindles to nothing as all round town our shift mates find their own bolt holes. There’s a Management meeting this afternoon and our Controller is there so we aren’t going to be messed around in this weather.
The showers pass for long enough to be pitched back into the middle of the school run insanity. There guys don’t just break the highway code, they shatter it. Illegal U-turns in heavy traffic, stopping on school zig zags (Which is still a criminal offence), parked half way up the footway forcing barely supervised seven year olds into the road. All I can say is thank God for afternoon tea break.
Rain and sleet again as I head out on patrol. Another place to shelter and I’m ‘ghosting’ several streets which have nothing on them at this time of day. Still, Management says patrol at this time, so I am there in spirit if not in body. If I get pneumonia in this weather, I’ll just end up on half pay and they won’t get any streets patrolled at all. It’s saving them money really – honestly.
At last it’s home time. A pocket full of booked sinners and very weary feet. At least I’m on a shorter beat tomorrow. Someone else can have the longest beat. The singer may change, but the song remains the same.
This morning sees me cursing and swearing under my breath at the school run drivers, as I try to get them to behave like grown ups. This proved to be a frantic fifteen minutes. However; I was composed enough about it to quote Walter Scott when a passing member of the public said. “Don’t you get fed up with those idiots?”
“I look at it this way sir; better one crowded hour of glorious life than an age without a name.”
“Very philosophical.”
“The job does tend to make you that way.” He left with a bemused look on his face. I have that effect on people sometimes.
About an hour later I turn a corner to see an RTA and traffic backing up, so I pitch in and help out by persuading car drivers backed up in a small queue to turn around and direct them down another street. PC49 has turned up, as has an Ambulance and a couple of squad cars, and treats me to his usual piss take. “He’s on double yellows – going to nick him?” He says, indicating the crashed vehicle.
“Nah.” I rejoinder. “You guys can do him for obstruction.” Its what passes for humour in our circles.
Just before lunch I am waylaid by a blue rinse in a Mercedes who begins to pepper me with questions about the why’s and wherefores of the parking restrictions and why we Enforcement Officers patrol late at night and isn’t it a Government fund raiser? Feeling particularly evil, I pass over Parking Office’s direct line on one of their visitors cards. She can waste an hour of their time.
After lunch the weather turns wetter. It rains, it hails. It even tries to snow. I get soaked. I meet up with one of my oppo’s and we lurk at the top of a stairwell in one of the Council’s multi storey car parks, watching the shower pass over. Officially we are patrolling the car park; unofficially we are drying out. Radio traffic dwindles to nothing as all round town our shift mates find their own bolt holes. There’s a Management meeting this afternoon and our Controller is there so we aren’t going to be messed around in this weather.
The showers pass for long enough to be pitched back into the middle of the school run insanity. There guys don’t just break the highway code, they shatter it. Illegal U-turns in heavy traffic, stopping on school zig zags (Which is still a criminal offence), parked half way up the footway forcing barely supervised seven year olds into the road. All I can say is thank God for afternoon tea break.
Rain and sleet again as I head out on patrol. Another place to shelter and I’m ‘ghosting’ several streets which have nothing on them at this time of day. Still, Management says patrol at this time, so I am there in spirit if not in body. If I get pneumonia in this weather, I’ll just end up on half pay and they won’t get any streets patrolled at all. It’s saving them money really – honestly.
At last it’s home time. A pocket full of booked sinners and very weary feet. At least I’m on a shorter beat tomorrow. Someone else can have the longest beat. The singer may change, but the song remains the same.
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