Oh you are awful
My life on the Streets is moving inexorably to its bitter end, my exit strategy is moving forward slowly but surely, and life may shortly (I hope) improve. One is not holding one’s breath you understand, but hope springs eternal as they say. A number of the other guys feel this way and are also laying plans. That mess room is going to be an awful empty place if the grumbling is anything to go by.
On the brighter side (Well to my warped sense of humour at least), one of todays little encounters made me suppress a smirk. A driver has parked his early 1990’s BMW on double yellows (A sure sign that there is a below the waist, above the neck winkle problem) and is just sitting there in the drivers seat. As I am wont to do, I walk over to the vehicle in clear line of sight and try to catch the drivers attention. Driver winds down window. “What?” He demands angrily. What a nice man, not.
“You do realise you’re parked on double yellow lines, sir.”
“Yeah, so what?” Am I wearing a uniform or a frilly pink tutu, pal?
“You shouldn’t park here, sir.”
“Yeah I can.” This boy’s a fool.
“The markings indicate that you may not stop here sir.”
“My daughters over there.” So aren’t you with her? You utter buffoon.
“Why not park over there in the car park sir?”
“Don’t you be sarcastic to me!”
“No I’m not sir. I am simply asking politely why you do not park legally. There are spaces over there.” I indicate the pay and display bays across the street. “I’ve just checked.”
He snarled at me and wound the window up. I think he said something along the lines of it was going to be ‘All my fault’ if his precious little princess got raped – or some such nonsense. I missed the rest of what he said and perhaps that’s just as well. He’d already proved himself to be a grade A pillock. If he was that keen on protecting his kids he’d be out there keeping them company instead of sitting in his ageing willy substitute.
His behaviour, like that of so many others sometimes makes me think I’m wasting my time trying to be polite. I often feel I might as well just start punching in a vehicles details regardless. Just like the jobsworth stereotype many people automatically assume me to be. This blog will never change that. Restrictions generate contraventions like sewers flow with shit. It’s in the nature of things. The rules exist to govern the behaviour of those who cannot see the folly of their own actions, and the inconvenience they bring to others. Then again, I think I’ll keep on doing the job the way I already do because I’ve grown comfortable with it. I sleep well at night, only awakened by the occasional wifely elbow in the ribs when my snoring gets too much.