A journal of questionable quality

Thursday, September 14, 2006

One less licence

heady day, heady decisions
What did I say in the previous post? The thing about keeping all my licences as unemployment insurance?

Change of heart. Change of attitude. Exposed to the monster that is the public service, better defined as Transport, my will began to slip away.

This is the deal; find my old mate to get him to sign the paperwork to say I am a good guy; spend the rest of the day with him, catching up, him trying to convince me to be in a truck - 12 hours a day 7 days a week, me resisting but sighing at the good time that were had all that time ago.

Leave him, after the mandatory catch up with all the other drivers in the area, wanting now to get in a truck just for a bit of fun, knowing that it will never work that way - I will end up with a full time job and no home life - wondering if that's really so much of a problem. Yvonne is pretty tied up with her kids; they are high maintenance and I don't think she would miss me as much as she thinks. Time flies.

The Transport Dept is one of those places where you have to line up and pray that you have everything right. We get to go to the 'industry' section, designed to keep us away from real people. There will only be one lethargic person available when we get there. Excruciating.

Eventually I will get to the front. Producing paperwork for both cab and tow truck is confusing for them. We go through this every year. How come both. 'Why not?' Investigations in the very depths of the computer of rules will finally convince them that this transactions indeed possible, just unusual. Transport don't like unusual.

And, with luck, and more than a bit of patience, we will prevail and go on to do it all over again next year.

not this year
Two hours of physio, some heavy going stuff designed to get my rebuilt shoulder going again, and I'm not feeling like continuing the day. The mood will not accommodate seeing anyone, old mate or not; the shoulder is going to be an impediment getting in and out of trucks - I'm just looking to get out of town and back to the comfort of a hot shower.

Transport is on the way home; required signer of paperwork is the other direction. Can't do it.

Today is historic, today I am going to do the one licence. The tow truck one is handed in; tears are in order; I have had that for many years, attended many accidents, messed with many dead, burnt bodies, and made a lot of money doing so. Now it's gone. Not forever, I can apply again anytime, but continuity is lost.

Sad day, but couldn't stand the pain of getting it all done with a serious deadline.

Taxi operator renewed, Transport staff startled to see only one piece of paper. Duly processed and out of there.

I worry that this is just another stage in the gentrification of Bruce.

I somehow don't think so.

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