Are traffic wardens really people?

Bigotry used to be far bigger than it is today, which, I can only surmise, is how the term came about acquiring its first syllable.

Back in the day, hating people based on their identity was all the rage.

In fact, through the latter half of the 20th century, sectarianism – hatred rooted in religion – was very in vogue in this particular part of the world. Catholics and Protestants simply could not get enough of despising each other.

Look it up. They’ve made documentaries about it and all.

However, while this nonchalant attitude to discrimination remains the status quo in many other parts of the world, where we live, much to the consternation of racists, sectarians, homophobes, and bigots of all other bitter and unsavoury flavours, the golden age of group hate seems to be behind us.

(Yes, I am aware that what happened in Dublin revealed an ambient atmosphere of xenophobia, and demonstrated that, domestically, we still have a lot of work to do before we enter some sort of post-hate utopia. But, give me some leeway, I am making my way towards talking about traffic wardens).

The reason that a person, group or society disavows group-based hate is founded in the fact that all people are best understood as individuals, not as members of a group.

In other words, to know that somebody is black, protestant or gay is to know something about them.

However, taken in the context of the totality of who that person is, it is also to know almost nothing about them.

When we refuse to indulge in prejudice, we are rejecting the notion that to superficially understand one component of a person’s identity is sufficient information on which to form an opinion about them, let alone loathe them.

And so I reckon this same enlightened understanding of humanity should be extended to… traffic wardens.

Just hear me out!

A few weeks ago marked 50 years since the first traffic warden – or ‘traffic attendant’, as the wee badges on their hats insist they be called – stepped foot on the streets of Omagh. I, therefore, imagine that it is about 49 years and 350-odd days since the red and black brigade became the most widely and openly disliked people in the town.

When I heard about the big anniversary, I reached out to the Department of Infrastructure to see if they would put forward a local traffic warden for an interview.

“I think it would be a good opportunity to humanise our all-too-frequently maligned traffic attendants,” I added, earnestly.

Then came the disappointing reply.

“Sorry, but we have spoken with NSL who employ the traffic attendants, and they will not be able to provide a TA for interview.”

I was raging!

I thought that they would have no bother nominating a decent, affable, non-evil member of staff, who would explain to our readers that traffic wardens were no different from the likes of you and I; just people trying to make a wage and feed a family, only doing what they have to do in order to get by.

I peered through the telescope of time, and saw a day when the citizens of Omagh did not condemn and vilify traffic wardens on the basis of their profession (when they looked past their slightly ludicrously officious uniforms), and saw the human beings beneath.

In this vision, I spied a new era when motorists would sound a friendly horn as they passed their local warden, roll down the window and shout out to them as they went about their work.

“Hi, John, what about that £60 fine you hit me with last week, and me only two minutes over the hour, eh? You got me quare and good there  That’ll teach me to forget my disabled badge again! See ya, John!”

Anyway, maybe I am dreamer, and perhaps it is the destiny of traffic warden to forever be at odds with the world.

However, this December, if in an act of festive desperation you decide to abandon your wagon on the double yellows, only to return to find a warden hanging over your windscreen, instead of crumpling up the ticket and making them eat it, take a deep breath, accept that they are only doing their job, and if you cannot say ‘Merry Christmas’, maybe you’d be better saying nothing at all…