Sunday bloody Sunday
Lots of the usual “But it’s Sunday!” from people who want something for nothing. However, one man who challenged me about parking around one of the local churches (Which incidentally has the residents up in arms) got little sympathy.
“Don’t you think it’s wrong that the Church isn’t exempt on Sunday? Don’t you?” He asked me insistently, willing me to agree with him.
“I just enforce the parking rules sir. To be honest, I find if a restriction is active on a Sunday, there’s usually a good reason for it.”
“Yes, but all the churchgoers…” He lets the sentence trail off, trying to make me feel guilty.
“I work for the Council sir, and by proxy the council tax payers. They say enforce, it’s what I do.”
“Well doesn’t it bother you that they’re Christians?”
“Christian, Jew, Pagan or Moslem sir, a sinner is a sinner in my book. Which is what I do for a living, funnily enough.” This guy has no sense of irony.
“So you’re telling my you’d give a little old lady, a helpless little old lady who wants to go to church in her car, a parking ticket?”
“Sir.” I sigh resignedly. “I book cars which are in contravention of the parking regulations. Prince or pauper. Prophet or supplicant. Makes no odds to me. To be honest my only real concern is that I do what I do correctly and impartially. Next car I book might be a Rolls Royce, might be a Smart car. Who it belongs to is not something that concerns me.”
“You’d book your own Grandmother!” He snaps, turning huffily on his heel and storming off. My Grandmother never drove a car you dummy, but she could handle a mean rotavator. (I come from a rural background) “You’ll never go to heaven!” He delivers this as a parting shot. If heaven is full of pompous sods like you, I’ll take my chances with Hell.
Sundays, you just gotta love ‘em. At least when my shift ends.