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Saturday, September 23, 2006

 

A confession

As Rhea from Rheas Ramblings has noted several times, I suffer from internal monologues. Like (I think) every other worker in a position where they have to deal with the prejudiced and hard of thinking. My mouth will say one thing whilst the little man in my head, or the real me, is screaming the complete opposite, or even something at a fundamental tangent to whatever conversation is happening in real time.

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.

8 Comments:

Blogger Country Cottage said...

I'm pretty meticulous when it comes to looking for parking conditions - only 2 tickets in 20 years is a testament to that - and they were both my fault. Don't see the point in getting stressed about it. Of course, I'm not happy to get one, but I've thought on previous occasions what an idiot - I was, for getting it wrong. It's nice to know that you give 10 minutes though for change - is that a statutory requirement, or just playing fair? Does that also apply to car park attendants like council carparks with a warden (does that make sense?)

Saturday, September 23, 2006 10:22:00 pm  
Blogger Stan Still said...

The not paying for parking comes from the same tight git gene that causes drivers of big, expensive cars to keep their money in their pocket rather than buy a hands free kit.

I see them regularly with their phone in hand, clamped to their heads. When I say regularly, it's never when I'm in uniform or in a patrol car.

If you can afford £25k for a car, you can afford a Bluetooth headset - get your hands in your pockets and stop driving with your heads up your arse. (Good trick if you can do it)

Saturday, September 23, 2006 11:13:00 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

i do feel rather sorry for you, having to deal with such irratiting people. As someone who does park far too often on a restriction, (it's outside my house, and when i oversleep, which I am quite notorious for doing so, I am rather too often there 10 or 15 minutes after the penulties come into effect), I do hope that I would never be so agressive, and simply accept my punishment.

If one misbehaves, one must accept the punishments, and allowing a parking attendent/officer (how should one decribe your occupation?), to wait for ten minutes is certainly cause for a fine.

Sunday, September 24, 2006 3:55:00 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

the chances are he can't afford 25 grand for a car, he's only got it because he's a rep - his other car would probably be a ford focus.

Sunday, September 24, 2006 7:19:00 am  
Blogger Bill Sticker said...

The ten minutes is a personal thing; I always allow it in car parks just in case someone has genuinely gone for change for the pay and display machines. Five minutes observation is the norm elsewhere, such as the on Street pay and display (Unless someone's collared me and asked nicely for a little extra time).

As I've said before, I'm addicted to fair play.

Sunday, September 24, 2006 7:24:00 am  
Blogger justajob said...

Like the passenger who got on the bus one day spoiling for a fight. "What time do you call this." he yelled at everyone within 200yards but me in particular. Me, quietly, "Err, British Summer Time." The rest of the conversation was all one way and included lots of swearing. He didn't ride on the bus. Which was the result I was after.

Sunday, September 24, 2006 11:28:00 am  
Blogger Calabar Gal said...

I beg ur pardon, Anonymous2!!! What is wrong with a Ford Focus? I drive a Focus C-Max, It cost me 20grand is quite sleek and classic and serves me very well, THANK YOU!!

Sunday, September 24, 2006 12:16:00 pm  
Blogger Rhea said...

{applause} I think I'm becoming addicted to your entertaining monologues.

And thank you for the link :o)

Monday, September 25, 2006 10:07:00 pm  

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Exasperated expatriate expostulations all the way from British Columbia, Canada. As if anyone really cared. Oh, I also watch Icelandic Volcanoes and seismic activity. Don't ask me why.

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