Today for example; I’ve just booked a rather flash looking, brand spanking new Audi A6. Dark metallic grey, S line leather / cloth interior with what looked like the 6 speed box and a 3.2 litre engine. Very nice. Now tastefully decorated with one of my carefully issued Penalty Charge Notices for using one of the Council car parks without paying for the privilege. Tight git. You’d think someone who can afford that kind of car would stump up a measly pound for an hours parking wouldn’t you? Everybody else in the car park has, and I waited a good ten minutes before issuing, so the old ‘I just went for change’ chestnut won’t hold much water in a challenge. I’m working my way down towards the end of the line when the owner returns, sports bag in hand, angrily waving the envelope for said PCN under my nose.
“Why have you given me this fucking thing!” Oo I love a quiz.
“Which vehicle is it from sir?” I look him coolly straight in the eyes.
“You know fucking well which it is you fucking flunkey!” Oo, what a nasty man. He called me a flunkey too. Must phone Mother tonight.
“May I see it sir?” Don’t you raise your hands to me pal. Drop off her groceries on the way home, what time is it? Only another hour to go.
“You can fucking have it!”
“So you think the ticket was issued incorrectly sir?” Eldest due back from Uni next weekend, not this one, must lay on some extra grub in the freezer.
“Yes I fucking well do! Take it back – Now!”
“Can’t do that sir, it’s been legally issued.” Is he going to kick off or is he all mouth and trousers? Looks like a rep to me. I’ll chance it.
“Well I don’t want it! Fucking well take it back!” Late thirties and with a temperament like this, he’s working his way towards his first heart attack.
“Can’t do that sir. However, there is a challenge procedure on the back of the ticket detailing how to appeal against what you feel is an unfairly issued Penalty Charge notice.” Got that all out in one breath, Bill, good control mate.
“I’ll report you!” Don’t forget to mention you called me a fucking flunkey. You dickless wonder.
“That’s alright sir. I’m officer 515, see, it’s on the ticket if you forget.”
“Are you making fun of me!” Why not?
“Certainly not sir.” You might think so, but I couldn’t possibly comment. Wonder if I should waste time writing it all down? I’m not filling out an incident report form or I’ll never get home on time tonight. Besides, his threat to report me is probably all bluster. A few lines in my pocket note book should suffice. How about; ‘driver was abusive and made a threat to ‘report’ me’. Yeah, that’ll do to cover my back. I’m not insulting the English language by recording his remarks on anything official.
With a final cry of frustration, he turns on his heel and stomps back to his car muttering vile imprecations and slanders against my person, while my thoughts are busy with more important things like my youngests up and coming seventeenth birthday. Less than an hour before end of shift.
Hi ho, another day, another Dollar.