The tooth in the booth

When I tell people that “I walk to work”, what I really mean is that I could walk to work if only that Republique metro station wasn’t always just there on the corner giving me the irresistible urge to submerge.

All things considered, it takes almost exactly the same time to walk as take the metro one stop; but when was the last time I ever exercised reason or worse, needed a reason to exercise?

More than any other city I’ve lived in, Paris is traversable without a car. Indeed, you need a car here about as much as you need parking induced anxiety…

And thus, on request from Nordette, I dip into a fond memory of driving to work…from my first months of my first real job at the Police four years ago..

You may recall some trouble I was having with the car park boothoperator outside police headquarters a couple of months ago…

TO recap, he was charging me $7 per day instead of the $6 discount rate I was entitled to pay as a police employee. When I asked him about the special rate, he first chided me for asking questions (You asking questions mate? That’s the third one this week.), and then said the discount “applied to some people, but for me, no.”

Since the run-in, some of you criticised me as cowardly for refusing to longer park in his ‘gravel pit where birds shit’ any more…(though truth be told, I realised that the level storey carpark next door was also $7, and now I have resorted to bike riding)

Now I don’t often hold a grudge, but $5 extra every week amounts to roughly $250 annually in unnecessary parking fees. So I bided my time, until yesterday, when I exacted my revenge.

On the KALOF (Keep a Look Out For) page of the Herald Sun newspaper, was a photo-fit image of a man who vaguely resembled my carpark attendant: Olive complexion, missing some teeth and with orange tints in dirty hair.

This man was wanted for kidnapping some woman in her car in South Melbourne and then sexually assaulting her (and I thought he was giving ME grief!).

Call me petty, but I saw the chance for retribution.

Powerless to stop myself, I picked up my telephone and contacted Crime Stoppers with “some information”.

Who would have thought that all this time such an evil criminal menace was working right under the police’s nose, disguised as a miserly car-park attendant??

..And I probably would have let him get away with it, if only he’d given me that discount.

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One Response to “The tooth in the booth”

  1. My customer service skills are so crazy good I outta be arrested « Nords’ Says:

    […] excellent friend Arbourman also worked at the Police HQ, and has his own ridiculous story to tell – go read it now. Possibly related posts: (automatically generated)Wipro BPO Recruits FreshersStaffing Companies […]

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