Transport -
Traffic Warden School
By
Luke David
It's 9am and in a bleak, sterile
training room in north London and traffic warden
C1265 is reporting for duty. "That's your
number," trainer Lateef Aileru barks at me
as I take my seat among 15 others hopefuls
destined to inflict misery on the motoring
public. The walls around me are covered with
parking meters and pay-and-display machines,
constant reminders of the perils of parking
today. More than five million tickets were
slapped on cars last year, a rise of 14%, and
today an ever-growing army of traffic wardens is
scattering penalty charge notices around like
confetti. On the first of two days spent
undercover as a trainee parking attendant with
private firm Apcoa in Camden, I listen to
attendants who take pride in issuing as many
fines as possible and boast about
"trophy" tickets, the celebrity car.
One trainer gloats about towing away Arsenal
footballer Thierry Henry's car. "When I put
on the uniform I'm a different man," says Mr
Aileru. "I'll clamp you, tow you away, I
don't care if your mother's dying in hospital.
I've had people on their knees begging me, saying
they haven't got any money and they can't afford
to pay. I don't care, my colleague will tell you
that." He points at another trainer.
"He gave his wife a ticket and then had to
pay it himself. I hate motorists. They deserve
parking tickets they are so lazy."
Unfortunately for drivers, most local authorities
seem to agree.
Almost 100 now employ private contractors to
enforce parking regulations. New legislation
looks set to give wardens the additional power to
fine motorists up to £100 for minor traffic
offences, such as stopping inside a yellow box
junction. The prospect clearly fills Mr Aileru
with nostalgia for the days he spent slapping
notices on cars. "I haven't been on the
streets since becoming a trainer," he says,
his eyes almost moistening with emotion.
"But these new laws are enough to make me
get back out there." It's hard to share his
enthusiasm. Parking attendants, he tells us, are
expected to walk up to 20 miles a day, five days
a week, carrying a 5kg pack for just £750 a
month after tax.
He claims staff are also effectively penalised
for taking a day off sick by losing an hourly
"bonus" of 91p for completing a full
week's work. Mr Aileru warns us Apcoa know how
many tickets each beat yields in an eight-hour
shift and that we must keep a log of everything
we do, including toilet stops. The military-style
operation reveals what many motorists have
suspected for years - parking tickets are a huge
source of income for councils, and for the
company. I risk Mr Aileru's wrath by asking if he
has ever regretted being a warden. He thinks
momentarily and recalls, "There was one time
I questioned why I was doing this job. That was
after I gave this woman a ticket and her son was
dying in hospital. She didn't get angry but just
turned around and started talking to herself
about her dying son. I almost didn't give her a
ticket, but she did wrong and the rules are
rules."
Like most contracts between the private firms who
enforce parking regulations and local
authorities, Apcoa has targets set by Camden
Council. If it exceeds those, bosses are paid a
higher proportion of ticket revenues. Between
July and September in Camden the guideline was
54,637 tickets. The amount they yielded was
61,615. We stop for lunch and spend a depressing
hour sitting on tatty chairs in the common room,
watching day-time television. Attendants who have
finished their shifts on frozen streets outside
shuffle by. I stop one and ask what it is like to
work here. He tells me not to bother to try to
get a job. "There is an atmosphere of real
insecurity," he says. "Most of the
staff work 70 hours a week just to make up a
decent wage."
On the wall of the common room are two notice
boards. Among official warnings about pay is a
letter which reminds us just how much fury
parking attendants can provoke. It's addressed to
the managing director of a scaffolding company
and warns him of legal action against one of his
employees for allegedly punching an Apcoa parking
attendant. After lunch we are taken through
"beat-patterns", the section of streets
we will be assigned to patrol. "Our contract
with the council dictates we have to visit a
certain area a certain number of times a
day," says a trainer. "Some wardens
cover their beat and then around 4pm rush to
Camden High Street to get as many tickets as they
can."
We learn the 25 penalty charge notice codes used
by Apcoa. Code 24, incorrect parking, is extreme.
"If a car is parked more than 50cm from the
kerb it is incorrectly parked. That carries a
fine of up to £100. "Isn't that a bit
harsh?" I dare to suggest. The trainer
replies, "We don't make the rules, we
enforce them, and if a driver breaks them they
must suffer the consequence." And will go on
suffering them...
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