The other day I was driving past a gas station and was flagged down by a guy who said a lady's car was on fire. I thought, why is he telling me this? I'm not a fireman, but okay, I do have a radio to the police station.
So, I pull around and into the station and a guy there (a young guy who I used to work with at a previous job, by the way) told me that a couple of them pushed the lady's car away from the pumps and sure enough, it was now blocking the sidewalk so nobody could walk by!
As it turned out, the lady was deaf. When I asked her what had happened, I had to use a combination of charades (which I'm very good at) and writing things on my pad of paper. She was typing responses to me on her phone which was so slow and maddening, that she just grabbed my pad and pen and starting writing furiously.
The car was not burning. What happened was, she had had a repair recently and the mechanic, if you can call him that, used blue tape - yes, blue painter's masking tape! - to wrap some wires together. Well, the tape was resting on a hot part of the engine, and amazingly, it caught fire! She was fine, the car was fine except that she lost the fan that cools the radiator. She told me she thought she could make it home (she lived about 4 miles away), so I had the Desk cancel the cops and the firemen and let her drive off. I hope she made it. I never found out one way or another.
These are the kinds of things that happen when you're out in the street all day. What fun!
10-7
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Training Day
Well, Training Month actually. I had been tasked for the past few weeks with the training of the newest PCO. So, besides all the usual routine activities, a few unusual things occurred and I will relate them to you now. Please sit down. You may not believe some of this stuff.
1). We found a car with a fake year tab that was so bad, we both spotted it while driving by at 20 miles an hour. We stopped to cite him and tow him (his car registration was two years out of date), he came out of his house, and we had to call a cop to our location. He made the guy sit on the curb and watch us. His story was so stupid, it was all we could do not to laugh.
2). While driving near a liquor store slash market, we noticed a guy who had just opened a beer. The beer was spilling out over the top of the bottle and his pants were falling off exposing his naked buttocks (I may have to start adding pictures to this blog just because of this guy). If that weren't enough, he sat on the hot sidewalk under a sign that essentially called him a clown. We laughed and laughed this time.
3). We saw a guy riding a bicycle while carrying a cup of coffee on his head! It must have been hot because he had his head wrapped in a t-shirt like a turban. Don't know how he managed not to spill any of it.
4). We encountered an older gent driving down the up ramp in one of the parking structures. It was all we could do to convince him he was doing the wrong thing. Sheesh!
5). We found a car in the sweeper zone with a dead pigeon on the hood. The scary part was, the bird had no head! Was it a Mafia-like message for the offender not to park there anymore? Or just some red-tailed hawk's idea of a sick joke. We got out of there quickly.
6). We found a car full of trash (the driver said they were recyclables) that was double parked in the roadway. Let me explain this: the trash was completely stuffing the inside, of course, but it was also on the hood and the trunk. Piled high! The car had no plates but did have a red number from the DMV in the rear window. He had to scatter trash off the trunk and onto the road in order for us to see it. "Are you going to give me a ticket?" Moron.
And finally, 7). We cited a guy's friend who had parked his car across the sidewalk. When the guy came out of his house, he asked us in his accented (and probably learned from the movies) English, "What is duh meaning of dis?" I was so astonished, all I could do was repeat the question back to him (with much better enunciation) "What is the meaning of this?" I was tempted to ask him if he meant his query in a metaphysical sense which would have rendered any answer I could have given completely unsatisfactory in a world as mundane as a PCOs. Instead I just gave him the facts. We laughed about this guy for days.
Well, training is almost over for our newbie. I hope she goes on to have a sterling career. If she can keep a straight face.
Signed,
Officer X
or
The Prince of Parking
The Sultan of Spots
The King of the Curb
The Rajah of Red Zones
(You get the idea)
10-7
1). We found a car with a fake year tab that was so bad, we both spotted it while driving by at 20 miles an hour. We stopped to cite him and tow him (his car registration was two years out of date), he came out of his house, and we had to call a cop to our location. He made the guy sit on the curb and watch us. His story was so stupid, it was all we could do not to laugh.
2). While driving near a liquor store slash market, we noticed a guy who had just opened a beer. The beer was spilling out over the top of the bottle and his pants were falling off exposing his naked buttocks (I may have to start adding pictures to this blog just because of this guy). If that weren't enough, he sat on the hot sidewalk under a sign that essentially called him a clown. We laughed and laughed this time.
3). We saw a guy riding a bicycle while carrying a cup of coffee on his head! It must have been hot because he had his head wrapped in a t-shirt like a turban. Don't know how he managed not to spill any of it.
4). We encountered an older gent driving down the up ramp in one of the parking structures. It was all we could do to convince him he was doing the wrong thing. Sheesh!
5). We found a car in the sweeper zone with a dead pigeon on the hood. The scary part was, the bird had no head! Was it a Mafia-like message for the offender not to park there anymore? Or just some red-tailed hawk's idea of a sick joke. We got out of there quickly.
6). We found a car full of trash (the driver said they were recyclables) that was double parked in the roadway. Let me explain this: the trash was completely stuffing the inside, of course, but it was also on the hood and the trunk. Piled high! The car had no plates but did have a red number from the DMV in the rear window. He had to scatter trash off the trunk and onto the road in order for us to see it. "Are you going to give me a ticket?" Moron.
And finally, 7). We cited a guy's friend who had parked his car across the sidewalk. When the guy came out of his house, he asked us in his accented (and probably learned from the movies) English, "What is duh meaning of dis?" I was so astonished, all I could do was repeat the question back to him (with much better enunciation) "What is the meaning of this?" I was tempted to ask him if he meant his query in a metaphysical sense which would have rendered any answer I could have given completely unsatisfactory in a world as mundane as a PCOs. Instead I just gave him the facts. We laughed about this guy for days.
Well, training is almost over for our newbie. I hope she goes on to have a sterling career. If she can keep a straight face.
Signed,
Officer X
or
The Prince of Parking
The Sultan of Spots
The King of the Curb
The Rajah of Red Zones
(You get the idea)
10-7
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Verify This!
There are all kinds of signs in our city. Most of them just sit there year in and year out and nobody ever seems to read them. Maybe they take them for granted like they do their spouse (But I digress, and rather well, I think). No, there is another type of sign that now and again makes an appearance. Yes, I'm talking (writing, actually) about the Temporary No Parking signs. You've all seen, I'm sure, those red and white beauties. These allow us to cite you AND to tow you away so read them please, because some of my colleagues live for this.
The local economy must be doing okay because lately The Desk has been sending a lot of us to "verify" that they are indeed there (the signs not the folks who sit at The Desk), and that they are filled out correctly (the folks who sit at The Desk are also pretty filled out but I will not cast aspersions on them. They have a hard job.) So, we copy down all the info we are given and off we zoom (read: slog) to the location or locations. You are lucky if there is only one location and only two, three or four signs. I've been sent to long stretches of road to verify over a hundred signs when there is some big event that needs the parking space there. And don't get me started on the parade route when that comes around!
I realize now that I need one of those clicker counters that people who work the door of various venues have. It would be much easier than trying to count the number out loud - there's so many distractions like the police radio, the radio radio, the people stopping you to ask inane questions, you get the idea.
Then, you have another problem: when The Desk tells you one thing and the signs say another. Or, they are not filled out correctly or completely. Or they are not placed properly on cones, delineaters, sign poles or telephone poles or even trees. No, sometimes the people posting them think it's okay to put them on the wall or the fence of their business, you know, where the parker won't notice them! I actually saw one recently on the handrail of the stairs leading into the building! You might see it if you were inclined to park right there on the sidewalk but otherwise, forget it!
So, sometimes we have to go back and re-verify them when they are corrected. It's such a waste of time. I'd like to quit all this nonsense. Maybe I should take all this as sign.
10-7
The local economy must be doing okay because lately The Desk has been sending a lot of us to "verify" that they are indeed there (the signs not the folks who sit at The Desk), and that they are filled out correctly (the folks who sit at The Desk are also pretty filled out but I will not cast aspersions on them. They have a hard job.) So, we copy down all the info we are given and off we zoom (read: slog) to the location or locations. You are lucky if there is only one location and only two, three or four signs. I've been sent to long stretches of road to verify over a hundred signs when there is some big event that needs the parking space there. And don't get me started on the parade route when that comes around!
I realize now that I need one of those clicker counters that people who work the door of various venues have. It would be much easier than trying to count the number out loud - there's so many distractions like the police radio, the radio radio, the people stopping you to ask inane questions, you get the idea.
Then, you have another problem: when The Desk tells you one thing and the signs say another. Or, they are not filled out correctly or completely. Or they are not placed properly on cones, delineaters, sign poles or telephone poles or even trees. No, sometimes the people posting them think it's okay to put them on the wall or the fence of their business, you know, where the parker won't notice them! I actually saw one recently on the handrail of the stairs leading into the building! You might see it if you were inclined to park right there on the sidewalk but otherwise, forget it!
So, sometimes we have to go back and re-verify them when they are corrected. It's such a waste of time. I'd like to quit all this nonsense. Maybe I should take all this as sign.
10-7
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
T.A.
The title of this post is NOT about what some of you are thinking about (those of you who troll the Internet looking for salacious material [Hello Anthony, I'm talking to you! Dummy.]). Besides, if it were, there would be an ampersand (&) between the letters. No, a T.A. refers to what the police call a Traffic Accident. The police respond to many of these on a daily basis, this being the Los Angeles area and people are constantly being distracted by a cell phone call, a text, or a pretty girl or guy walking on the sidewalk in a skimpy outfit (okay, that's as salacious as this is going to get). But we Parking types don't really respond to T.A.s unless we need to block a street or help direct traffic around the incident.
The reason I'm writing about this today is, the other day I was the first one on the scene at a pretty bad T.A. that happened right by the police station. Here's what happened: I was heading in to end my work day when I turned up the street and noticed people trying to get my attention and pointing up the street. Usually when people point at me they are using one specific finger, but this time they seemed to be trying to tell me something. I got further up the block and saw just what it was. A car had obviously been t-boned in the intersection and the young lady was still in the vehicle, which was now pulled onto the side street, the one I was on. I pulled over and jumped out of my city vehicle and immediately got on the police radio. I called in and asked them if they had a report on the accident. They said no. I told them about it and that I was checking for injuries. Then I got closer to the girl. She was badly shaken up, had cuts on her face and head, and there was blood.
Now, I like scary movies but not bloody ones. I got a little shaken up myself but I held my composure in order to help her. I asked her if she needed a paramedic. Her answer caught me by surprise. "Do I have to pay for it?" This is what our country has come to folks. I don't mean to get political here but this is telling. I told her, "I wouldn't worry about money right now. Let's worry about your health." I got back on the radio and called for paramedics, I called in the license plates of the two vehicles involved (the cops need this in case one of the parties is wanted), and I called for the tow company the city uses to clean up the intersection of all the debris (glass, metal and plastic that other cars were now driving over).
I tried to keep the young lady calm while she called her father and told him, through sobs and tears, about the accident. Her boyfriend, who was unharmed, then told me what had happened: they had swung wide in the intersection to make a u-turn and the pick-up behind them kept coming (obviously at a pretty good clip) and smashed into them. Then he asked me if it was illegal to make the u-turn there. It wasn't but one of our motorcycle officer told him that all parties in that situation have the responsibility to be safe about it. The other driver, the one with the large pick-up, was unharmed as well. The cops were speaking with him. The paramedics and a firetruck arrived, the tow truck was there and the tow truck driver was out sweeping up. The intersection got jammed with cars and the sidewalk with on-lookers. It was a mess. One of the officers directed traffic and they told me I could go, without so much as a thanks or a "good job." As I said, it's routine for the officers but not for us. Certainly not for me. And blood does bother me, mine or other people's. But, it all goes with the job.
I am part of what they call the "First Responders." I like it better when they say "Everyday Heroes." I don't ever feel heroic on my job, believe me, but that day, I kinda did.
Ten-Seven
The reason I'm writing about this today is, the other day I was the first one on the scene at a pretty bad T.A. that happened right by the police station. Here's what happened: I was heading in to end my work day when I turned up the street and noticed people trying to get my attention and pointing up the street. Usually when people point at me they are using one specific finger, but this time they seemed to be trying to tell me something. I got further up the block and saw just what it was. A car had obviously been t-boned in the intersection and the young lady was still in the vehicle, which was now pulled onto the side street, the one I was on. I pulled over and jumped out of my city vehicle and immediately got on the police radio. I called in and asked them if they had a report on the accident. They said no. I told them about it and that I was checking for injuries. Then I got closer to the girl. She was badly shaken up, had cuts on her face and head, and there was blood.
Now, I like scary movies but not bloody ones. I got a little shaken up myself but I held my composure in order to help her. I asked her if she needed a paramedic. Her answer caught me by surprise. "Do I have to pay for it?" This is what our country has come to folks. I don't mean to get political here but this is telling. I told her, "I wouldn't worry about money right now. Let's worry about your health." I got back on the radio and called for paramedics, I called in the license plates of the two vehicles involved (the cops need this in case one of the parties is wanted), and I called for the tow company the city uses to clean up the intersection of all the debris (glass, metal and plastic that other cars were now driving over).
I tried to keep the young lady calm while she called her father and told him, through sobs and tears, about the accident. Her boyfriend, who was unharmed, then told me what had happened: they had swung wide in the intersection to make a u-turn and the pick-up behind them kept coming (obviously at a pretty good clip) and smashed into them. Then he asked me if it was illegal to make the u-turn there. It wasn't but one of our motorcycle officer told him that all parties in that situation have the responsibility to be safe about it. The other driver, the one with the large pick-up, was unharmed as well. The cops were speaking with him. The paramedics and a firetruck arrived, the tow truck was there and the tow truck driver was out sweeping up. The intersection got jammed with cars and the sidewalk with on-lookers. It was a mess. One of the officers directed traffic and they told me I could go, without so much as a thanks or a "good job." As I said, it's routine for the officers but not for us. Certainly not for me. And blood does bother me, mine or other people's. But, it all goes with the job.
I am part of what they call the "First Responders." I like it better when they say "Everyday Heroes." I don't ever feel heroic on my job, believe me, but that day, I kinda did.
Ten-Seven
Monday, May 30, 2011
What I really want to do is....
Anyone who lives in the Los Angeles area and has any connection at all with Show Biz will know how the title of this blog entry would finish. ...direct. Now, I came out here to be an actor, a writer, a director and I have had some success in all three of those areas. But working as a Parking Control Officer has also given me the opportunity to direct. To direct traffic.
Recently we had two (count 'em two!) High School graduations (I have capitalized High School so you wouldn't think I was saying the schools were high in the hills or the students were high in the classrooms. Although this is the Los Angeles area and anything is possible, I suppose). And you know what High School graduations mean. Yep, that's right. Bad driving. Not only by students mind you, but also by parents, grandparents, siblings, friends. All those people who are told the graduation starts at 6PM and who show up at 7:30PM asking where to park in an extremely crowded area. Sigh. Well, it's hard to complain about the ingress. But the egress! Please, get me started.
As the cars arrive for the festivities, they arrive in a staggered way (and no, I'm not talking about high students again). So, parking them is relatively easy. But of course, when the graduation is over, all the cars want to leave at the same time. This is commonly referred to by the police as a "cluster fuck." For those of you with delicate sensibilities let me apologize for the use of that word. Just understand it's not MY word but the word used by the police. Trust me, MY word is much worse.
So, here I am in the semi-gloom of a darkening sky trying to direct traffic at what is essentially a four-way intersection with one of the intersecting roads being blocked in such a way as to make it a one-way only. And wouldn't you know it? That's the most convenient way out! So of course everyone wants to go that way! Did you ever see anyone make a u-turn on a road that was closed off in one direction? I have. And I'm still amazed at myself for not throwing my shoes at those drivers. But I was standing on a hill so if I had done that it would have been even more difficult on my balance and my arches.
Add to all this the fact that there were other things going on in the area and you can imagine the chaos (some call it fun). Actually, truth be told, directing traffic IS kind of fun. Unless you've done it yourself, you can't imagine the feeling of power it gives you. The power to decide who gets to go and who must stop. The power to make the driver stop even though he or she wants to go soooo badly (and most of them do go badly, trust me). This sounds like the ultimate in ego-tripping and yeah, I guess it is. It's intense but it's kind of a thrill.
I'm sick, aren't I? Well, I really would rather direct films. Pass the Epsom salts. I'm going to soak my feet.
10-7
Recently we had two (count 'em two!) High School graduations (I have capitalized High School so you wouldn't think I was saying the schools were high in the hills or the students were high in the classrooms. Although this is the Los Angeles area and anything is possible, I suppose). And you know what High School graduations mean. Yep, that's right. Bad driving. Not only by students mind you, but also by parents, grandparents, siblings, friends. All those people who are told the graduation starts at 6PM and who show up at 7:30PM asking where to park in an extremely crowded area. Sigh. Well, it's hard to complain about the ingress. But the egress! Please, get me started.
As the cars arrive for the festivities, they arrive in a staggered way (and no, I'm not talking about high students again). So, parking them is relatively easy. But of course, when the graduation is over, all the cars want to leave at the same time. This is commonly referred to by the police as a "cluster fuck." For those of you with delicate sensibilities let me apologize for the use of that word. Just understand it's not MY word but the word used by the police. Trust me, MY word is much worse.
So, here I am in the semi-gloom of a darkening sky trying to direct traffic at what is essentially a four-way intersection with one of the intersecting roads being blocked in such a way as to make it a one-way only. And wouldn't you know it? That's the most convenient way out! So of course everyone wants to go that way! Did you ever see anyone make a u-turn on a road that was closed off in one direction? I have. And I'm still amazed at myself for not throwing my shoes at those drivers. But I was standing on a hill so if I had done that it would have been even more difficult on my balance and my arches.
Add to all this the fact that there were other things going on in the area and you can imagine the chaos (some call it fun). Actually, truth be told, directing traffic IS kind of fun. Unless you've done it yourself, you can't imagine the feeling of power it gives you. The power to decide who gets to go and who must stop. The power to make the driver stop even though he or she wants to go soooo badly (and most of them do go badly, trust me). This sounds like the ultimate in ego-tripping and yeah, I guess it is. It's intense but it's kind of a thrill.
I'm sick, aren't I? Well, I really would rather direct films. Pass the Epsom salts. I'm going to soak my feet.
10-7
Monday, May 23, 2011
Welcome Back
For various reasons I will not go into, I was off work for a little while. No, it had nothing to do with the last post. I'm suspecting that not many people read it in the first place. No, I was off work for a couple of weeks and on my first day back, with the very first ticket I wrote, the guy comes out of his house and gives me the finger (you know which one) and curses me out (oh, the redundancy of it all) using the same words that this particular finger indicated. He argued with me about the ticket, I told him to go argue with the clerk in the station, and I drove away.
Later on, another person told me in no uncertain terms that I was a bad person (if he only knew!) and what I should go do to myself. I don't think so.
Oy. So much for any relaxation I may have gotten from being off.
Welcome back.
Ten-Seven
(I can't wait to write EOW which means End Of Watch which means I'm through with this fahcacktah job. I can dream.)
Later on, another person told me in no uncertain terms that I was a bad person (if he only knew!) and what I should go do to myself. I don't think so.
Oy. So much for any relaxation I may have gotten from being off.
Welcome back.
Ten-Seven
(I can't wait to write EOW which means End Of Watch which means I'm through with this fahcacktah job. I can dream.)
Sunday, March 27, 2011
You Gotta Be So Careful
I heard the above phrase many times as I was preparing to write this particular blog entry. I promised you earlier that I was going to let you in on a little behind the scenes doings by writing about some of my colleagues. Now, that time has come. Let me say, that I will not be writing about any of the police. They carry guns. The most us PCOs get is pepper spray and I think I have the perfect defense for that stuff. It involves staring behind the person with the spray can, saying "What's that?" and then running like hell the other way. Foolproof.
Now, the other reason I must be careful is that, while I'm not in love with my job, I do enjoy being able to pay all my bills and have a little left over for the occasional chocolate bar. I don't want to lose this sucka now. Okay, so here goes: I will tell you about three of my fellow ticket-writers by giving them aliases.
1. Eeeyore - This guy is so miserable that listening to him on the radio is at times painful. When he's given a call by the communications center, his response is classic. Teeeenn-foooooourrrrr. Just like Pooh's jackass friend. Everything seems a burden to this guy and sometimes I feel bad for him (nah, now that I think about him, he deserves whatever he gets). The guy's stated goal is to make everyone else around him miserable too, and you know?, he does a pretty good job of that.
2. Zelda the Over-Zealous - She is obsessive. She MUST GET EVERYONE! She'll mark the tires on the same cars on the same block sixteen times a day just to keep her meds from wearing off. She would ticket her own grandmother for stopping in a red zone for two seconds to throw up out the window. She is also the impound queen. She'll impound your car just for the pure pleasure she gets from filling out the form. If your car is out of registration six months and one day, look out. She'll take it. We're all just lucky she doesn't have access to one of those car crushers. Oh, is this your cube?
3. I saved the worst for last. Baby Huey - This guy is big, fat, bald and a little baby. He is a classic bully who'll suck up to the higher-ups and look down on those below him in seniority. A real animal. He hates himself so much that he in turn hates everyone else. Mean just doesn't begin to describe this creep. He actually takes delight in intimidating people. He tried to do it to me when I was a newbie. I didn't take the bait and he hasn't spoken to me since (eight years!). This guy is well-known around town. Generally the comments we get are in the vein of "What's wrong with that fat guy?" or "Man, he's a douche." Now, I'm no psychologist but if I was, I would have warned the city that hiring this guy was a biiiiiggggg mistake. It's just not fair to repulse the citizens AND your co-workers. Did I mention he's fat? Real fat. And bald. And ugly (although that's a judgment call, I suppose, considering he dating Zelda!). When I think of the two of them together, all I can think of is The Rolling Thunder Tour (she's heavy too, you see). By the way, office romances are frowned upon by the department. This romance would be frowned upon by anyone with eyes!!!
Am I being unduly harsh? You don't know the half of it.
Ten-Seven
Now, the other reason I must be careful is that, while I'm not in love with my job, I do enjoy being able to pay all my bills and have a little left over for the occasional chocolate bar. I don't want to lose this sucka now. Okay, so here goes: I will tell you about three of my fellow ticket-writers by giving them aliases.
1. Eeeyore - This guy is so miserable that listening to him on the radio is at times painful. When he's given a call by the communications center, his response is classic. Teeeenn-foooooourrrrr. Just like Pooh's jackass friend. Everything seems a burden to this guy and sometimes I feel bad for him (nah, now that I think about him, he deserves whatever he gets). The guy's stated goal is to make everyone else around him miserable too, and you know?, he does a pretty good job of that.
2. Zelda the Over-Zealous - She is obsessive. She MUST GET EVERYONE! She'll mark the tires on the same cars on the same block sixteen times a day just to keep her meds from wearing off. She would ticket her own grandmother for stopping in a red zone for two seconds to throw up out the window. She is also the impound queen. She'll impound your car just for the pure pleasure she gets from filling out the form. If your car is out of registration six months and one day, look out. She'll take it. We're all just lucky she doesn't have access to one of those car crushers. Oh, is this your cube?
3. I saved the worst for last. Baby Huey - This guy is big, fat, bald and a little baby. He is a classic bully who'll suck up to the higher-ups and look down on those below him in seniority. A real animal. He hates himself so much that he in turn hates everyone else. Mean just doesn't begin to describe this creep. He actually takes delight in intimidating people. He tried to do it to me when I was a newbie. I didn't take the bait and he hasn't spoken to me since (eight years!). This guy is well-known around town. Generally the comments we get are in the vein of "What's wrong with that fat guy?" or "Man, he's a douche." Now, I'm no psychologist but if I was, I would have warned the city that hiring this guy was a biiiiiggggg mistake. It's just not fair to repulse the citizens AND your co-workers. Did I mention he's fat? Real fat. And bald. And ugly (although that's a judgment call, I suppose, considering he dating Zelda!). When I think of the two of them together, all I can think of is The Rolling Thunder Tour (she's heavy too, you see). By the way, office romances are frowned upon by the department. This romance would be frowned upon by anyone with eyes!!!
Am I being unduly harsh? You don't know the half of it.
Ten-Seven
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