Enter the shop doors, turn towards the seating area and five ladies look up with eager anticipation.
One name is announced and four concede graciously with a measured expression of acceptance to their disappointment…
“Oh well, I’m sure our taxis will be along presently”… is a typical chorus.
The “winner” rises, and I gather the shopping bags into one hand. A turn offers the empty arm towards the lady, she reaches and takes hold…
Then the departing, somewhat slo-mo shuffle dance begins.
The professional skill set is to match the natural rhythm of their shuffle. Success allows the pair of us to make a cool exit from the shop.
The established practice in a rare few of the city shops is for the elderly to have a private hire taxi ordered for them at the reception point, then relax and wait on the sheltered seats, inside the main doors. At rest… in the warm… in the dry… in a safe place.
When the car arrives, the process is as described above. It works great, but there is an aspect of legality that is overlooked for this to work as well as it does.
The areas outside are technically ‘no loading/parking at any time’ zones and although pickups are frequent, there was an occasion, where I experienced this beneficial practice being poked at.
Overall, the traffic wardens do a great job around the city. I realise a commonplace perception is “the enemy”, but in fairness, we are often “perching”, dropping and picking up in odd places and the attitude has been very respectful… Also, if they weren’t around, then, it would not be long before traffic chaos and wo reigned…
That said… this one was a dick-head.
.
The car was only five or six meters away from the door… up to a minute at our shuffle speed… and we had already conquered most of the distance.
The traffic warden was watching… waiting at the car and said nothing until we arrived… Then…
He ordered us (shuffle buddies) to return back inside. According to him, my lady was to go out and around the back of the row of shops… and I was to pick her up there… there, being in the shop loading area.
He concluded…
“If the lady gets in the car, I’ll issue a ticket.”
.
The infuriation of this, to me, was not any threat of a ticket… it was the total disregard to a proven safe, warm access point for the more vulnerable city visitors… so I placed a calm measured response…
“Drivers don’t arrange the pickup point. Our controllers arrange it, then instruct us… So why not just get your people… to talk to our people… so we’re all singing the same song?”
“You need to make the pickups from the loading area, around the rear.”
…Was his completely disconnected response.
.
Well… There’s no teamwork going on here, I thought… Sooooo, no more wasting words… It’s time for action:
I’d spotted a cream cake sitting in one of her shopping bags… Which inspired a few options:
For his demands to be met, it would mean the lady requires a two-day (shuffle speed) hike with her bags, to the rear loading bays… For this, I figured, she would need to eat the cake, just for the extra energy… This would mean she would eventually get a lift home… but would arrive home cakeless. Not ideal.
Another option would be to take the cream cake out of the box… and pop it into his face… but… this would also mean she would arrive home without her cake.
The third option seemed the more appropriate… Continue with our original plan and simply get in the car there and then.
We set off… leaving him writing a ticket.
The good news is the lady got home comfortable and safe (with cake)… and for whatever reason… no ticket… or reprimand from official bodies came my way.
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