Tweet
HOly crabby old bats, Batman!
One of the lots we do in town is to a retirement home complex. I HATE doing this lot because it's mostly a waste of time, there's never anything illegal in there. It's full of the same old Caddys and Buicks day after day after day that never move from their spaces and, much like their owners, are just growing crustier, rustier and less appealing to me as time marches on.
And secondly, on the rare occasions we do go in to check, just to keep everyone honest so to speak, we immediately get a call from the police department wondering if we're checking the lot as once again, that one paranoid resident has called in a "prowler" sneaking around the cars in the parking lot who's probably a no good out-of-towner from one of those scary big cities who's looking to break into the apartments and murder everyone in their sleep! (See! That editorial they wrote to the paper about how we NEVER should have built that new freeway interchange was right!)
And if it's not her, it's that decidedly dispeptic-looking lady who's appointed herself the building's official parking matron and calls me at ungodly hours of the night and wants cars she doesn't recognize removed from that lot because, despite them having visible permits, or being parked in visitor spaces, she KNOWS that "they don't belong here!" She's particularly nasty in that not only will she call, but will keep calling in 15 minute intervals wanting to know where the truck is. And when it finally gets there, and the driver gets out, looks at the car, and sees the permit? Bluster and fire! She's on the phone again demanding to know why my driver is leaving without towing the car.... BEFORE he's even had a chance to radio me and let me know it's a false alarm. "That car has a permit" I plea with her, to no avail, "Nah! That's Kenny Jones! He's the cousin of Brenda's daughter! You know! She lives down the hall in 2B! I told her she can't let her daughter's cousin just come up and park here whenever he wants cuz' he don't live here! But she won't listen! So get back there and tow him! He don't belong!!" You can see where this is going.... and if I'm forced to make this trip, I'd like a complimentary handbasket, thank you. "And whut about that truck?!" she demands....
Yes, that red Dodge pickup you called into us doesn't have a permit. But, the writing on the door that says "JMS Contracting" and the utility toolbox bed with the load of sewer pipe in the back, the load destined for YOUR building, is all the permit he needs. It doesn't matter if you've "never heard of him" Ugh!
To all of you biddies:
GET
A
NEW
HOBBY
NOW!
Like pinochle or somethin'
Can't See Me! I Got My Head in the Sand!
Why do so many people think that they won't be found if they go down to the last space in the last row in the bottom level of an apartment's garage? Do they think that we don't check the entire thing? Or that we have to hold our breath going down and need to surface for more oxygen before we can make it all the way down? Because that's 3 times in one week that the guy at the bottom of our deepest, biggest patroled garage (5 levels) has been illegally parked without permits. It's also doubly-stupid to try it during summer semesters when lots run at 20% capacity, and we're bored to tears at times and check the lots even harder than usual just to avoid succumbing to torpor.
How About the Sign, On the Wall, Above Your Head, as we Speak?
That's where it says you can't skateboard on this property, tough guy. And right under that it also says "no trespassing" and I'm guessing you aren't a resident here either, how am I doing with my deduction? No, you're right, I can't make you leave because I'm just a tow truck driver and not a cop, but, you are aware the town police station is catty-corner to this very building right? I mean, I can SEE the line of shiny black and white crown vics along the fence from this building's front door, can't you? So, if you want an official demand to move, I can get one of those for you in all of about 20 seconds, so how about you not tempt me to do that? Oh, and if you won't leave, I can make your car leave, because I'm assuming that tan Accord you and your fellow radical skaters are leaning on right now is yours, and I know it doesn't have a permit for this lot. So, your choice, you can leave with the cops, your car can leave with me, or, in a choice that would be optimal for everyone, you ALL can leave together and nobody has to pay anyone a cent! How's that sound? At least he left, after a few more "tough guy" pouts.
Hulk Laugh at Puny Truck-Thing!
Sir, It's not that I don't believe you when you say that "back home" the parking meters aren't enforced after 5pm, but, and I hate to be the one to have to point this out, you aren't in your home town anymore. Based on the license plates on your truck, home for you is, in fact, 4 state BORDERS away. You don't recall crossing any of those? You surely should recall passing the PA state line, that's when you probably noticed the first of a truly uncountable number of potholes in the roadway, some big enough to swallow compact cars whole! What's that Sir? Oh, er, no, see we tow away illegally parked RV's during football season and can tow up to 50' box truck like the heavy-duty big kind you can get from Uhaul or Penske. So not only am I able but I am more than WILLING to tow away your 1 ton GMC Sierra 2500 for double parking at two parking meters and not paying either one if you don't move it right now. (He wasn't sucky per se, but I did enjoy the way the smug smile on his face evaporated when he realized that his entire life's belief that his truck was so big and strong that it was immune from tow trucks was false, a crisis of redneck faith, you might say.)
I Hate Being Right All the Time
Training a new guy this week, and enjoying the fact that for once, I get to sit in the passengers seat and have someone else drive me around. Anyway, while touring the town, a white Pontiac G5 drives past us. I point it out.
"See that car? We'll probably get her by the end of the week" I say
"For what?" asks my trainee.
"I know that car, and the owner. She never pays her parking meters, and once you get 4 meter tickets, you can be towed. Here, watch" I say as I pull out the company cellphone. Said phone now has a secret little app on it that direct-connects to the ticket database here in town, every parking ticket issued shows up on here. I love it. It's a lot less conspicuous than the way we used to do it with an old-school palm pilot with attached wireless base unit and printer that we used to have carry very openly strapped to our belts that gave away our intentions of causing delinquents trouble as sure as if it were a nickle-plated .45 in a holster. People see you standing with that behind their car correctly figure you're on to them, but they see you apparently texting your girlfriend on a phone and they haven't a clue that you're really plotting against them. Sneaky sneaky!
Anyway, I type in the plate number (which in a bad sign for her, I have committed to memory at this point) and it comes up with 3 unpaid tickets (And 12 others, but they're all paid, because we made her pay them the last 2 times she was towed in for delinquent tickets) and show it to my rookie: "See? One more ticket and we get her"
"And you're sure she'll eventually get another?"
"Only a matter of time, in fact, I'd be surprised if it isn't by the end of the week"
"Really, that soon?"
"Yep"
That was a Tuesday.
The car was towed the following Sunday night.
Not to say to the new guy "told ya so" but, well "told ya so!"
Stick with me kid, and you'll get somewhere in this biz!
One of the lots we do in town is to a retirement home complex. I HATE doing this lot because it's mostly a waste of time, there's never anything illegal in there. It's full of the same old Caddys and Buicks day after day after day that never move from their spaces and, much like their owners, are just growing crustier, rustier and less appealing to me as time marches on.
And secondly, on the rare occasions we do go in to check, just to keep everyone honest so to speak, we immediately get a call from the police department wondering if we're checking the lot as once again, that one paranoid resident has called in a "prowler" sneaking around the cars in the parking lot who's probably a no good out-of-towner from one of those scary big cities who's looking to break into the apartments and murder everyone in their sleep! (See! That editorial they wrote to the paper about how we NEVER should have built that new freeway interchange was right!)
And if it's not her, it's that decidedly dispeptic-looking lady who's appointed herself the building's official parking matron and calls me at ungodly hours of the night and wants cars she doesn't recognize removed from that lot because, despite them having visible permits, or being parked in visitor spaces, she KNOWS that "they don't belong here!" She's particularly nasty in that not only will she call, but will keep calling in 15 minute intervals wanting to know where the truck is. And when it finally gets there, and the driver gets out, looks at the car, and sees the permit? Bluster and fire! She's on the phone again demanding to know why my driver is leaving without towing the car.... BEFORE he's even had a chance to radio me and let me know it's a false alarm. "That car has a permit" I plea with her, to no avail, "Nah! That's Kenny Jones! He's the cousin of Brenda's daughter! You know! She lives down the hall in 2B! I told her she can't let her daughter's cousin just come up and park here whenever he wants cuz' he don't live here! But she won't listen! So get back there and tow him! He don't belong!!" You can see where this is going.... and if I'm forced to make this trip, I'd like a complimentary handbasket, thank you. "And whut about that truck?!" she demands....
Yes, that red Dodge pickup you called into us doesn't have a permit. But, the writing on the door that says "JMS Contracting" and the utility toolbox bed with the load of sewer pipe in the back, the load destined for YOUR building, is all the permit he needs. It doesn't matter if you've "never heard of him" Ugh!
To all of you biddies:
GET
A
NEW
HOBBY
NOW!
Like pinochle or somethin'
Can't See Me! I Got My Head in the Sand!
Why do so many people think that they won't be found if they go down to the last space in the last row in the bottom level of an apartment's garage? Do they think that we don't check the entire thing? Or that we have to hold our breath going down and need to surface for more oxygen before we can make it all the way down? Because that's 3 times in one week that the guy at the bottom of our deepest, biggest patroled garage (5 levels) has been illegally parked without permits. It's also doubly-stupid to try it during summer semesters when lots run at 20% capacity, and we're bored to tears at times and check the lots even harder than usual just to avoid succumbing to torpor.
How About the Sign, On the Wall, Above Your Head, as we Speak?
That's where it says you can't skateboard on this property, tough guy. And right under that it also says "no trespassing" and I'm guessing you aren't a resident here either, how am I doing with my deduction? No, you're right, I can't make you leave because I'm just a tow truck driver and not a cop, but, you are aware the town police station is catty-corner to this very building right? I mean, I can SEE the line of shiny black and white crown vics along the fence from this building's front door, can't you? So, if you want an official demand to move, I can get one of those for you in all of about 20 seconds, so how about you not tempt me to do that? Oh, and if you won't leave, I can make your car leave, because I'm assuming that tan Accord you and your fellow radical skaters are leaning on right now is yours, and I know it doesn't have a permit for this lot. So, your choice, you can leave with the cops, your car can leave with me, or, in a choice that would be optimal for everyone, you ALL can leave together and nobody has to pay anyone a cent! How's that sound? At least he left, after a few more "tough guy" pouts.
Hulk Laugh at Puny Truck-Thing!
Sir, It's not that I don't believe you when you say that "back home" the parking meters aren't enforced after 5pm, but, and I hate to be the one to have to point this out, you aren't in your home town anymore. Based on the license plates on your truck, home for you is, in fact, 4 state BORDERS away. You don't recall crossing any of those? You surely should recall passing the PA state line, that's when you probably noticed the first of a truly uncountable number of potholes in the roadway, some big enough to swallow compact cars whole! What's that Sir? Oh, er, no, see we tow away illegally parked RV's during football season and can tow up to 50' box truck like the heavy-duty big kind you can get from Uhaul or Penske. So not only am I able but I am more than WILLING to tow away your 1 ton GMC Sierra 2500 for double parking at two parking meters and not paying either one if you don't move it right now. (He wasn't sucky per se, but I did enjoy the way the smug smile on his face evaporated when he realized that his entire life's belief that his truck was so big and strong that it was immune from tow trucks was false, a crisis of redneck faith, you might say.)
I Hate Being Right All the Time
Training a new guy this week, and enjoying the fact that for once, I get to sit in the passengers seat and have someone else drive me around. Anyway, while touring the town, a white Pontiac G5 drives past us. I point it out.
"See that car? We'll probably get her by the end of the week" I say
"For what?" asks my trainee.
"I know that car, and the owner. She never pays her parking meters, and once you get 4 meter tickets, you can be towed. Here, watch" I say as I pull out the company cellphone. Said phone now has a secret little app on it that direct-connects to the ticket database here in town, every parking ticket issued shows up on here. I love it. It's a lot less conspicuous than the way we used to do it with an old-school palm pilot with attached wireless base unit and printer that we used to have carry very openly strapped to our belts that gave away our intentions of causing delinquents trouble as sure as if it were a nickle-plated .45 in a holster. People see you standing with that behind their car correctly figure you're on to them, but they see you apparently texting your girlfriend on a phone and they haven't a clue that you're really plotting against them. Sneaky sneaky!
Anyway, I type in the plate number (which in a bad sign for her, I have committed to memory at this point) and it comes up with 3 unpaid tickets (And 12 others, but they're all paid, because we made her pay them the last 2 times she was towed in for delinquent tickets) and show it to my rookie: "See? One more ticket and we get her"
"And you're sure she'll eventually get another?"
"Only a matter of time, in fact, I'd be surprised if it isn't by the end of the week"
"Really, that soon?"
"Yep"
That was a Tuesday.
The car was towed the following Sunday night.
Not to say to the new guy "told ya so" but, well "told ya so!"
Stick with me kid, and you'll get somewhere in this biz!
). Had to get towed to a dealer for repair. Turns out the oil filters had vibrated loose, dumping the crankcase. 
mean?"
"
ohmygodmycar'sbeenstoleninsuranceallmybelongings getanewonehowwillIgettoworkorgoshoppingorjustever leavethehouseagaincraaaaap 
Comment