Whose Worryin’ About Me?

As I was biking (NOT on the sidewalk, by the way!) this morning through a residential neighbourhood, I came upon a traffic cop who was in the process of writing up a series of tickets, which he had already started to put on cars that were illegally parked. He was 20 feet away from a home, which was being completely remodeled, and it was apparent that the workers had just parked as closely as possible to the building site.

Something in me pulled me towards the cop.

“Do you mind my asking you – where can these guys park if they are working here in this neighbourhood?”

“There’s no where for them to park anywhere around here,” he replied matter of factly.

“So why give them a ticket when they’ve got no place else to park?”

“I give ‘em tickets because the people who live around here don’t like seeing these trucks. And they don’t like the traffic they bring.”

This tripped a wire for me. “So, let me see if I get this right. These guys, who have no place else to park, will lose half their day’s wages because the neighbours don’t like seeing their trucks? Don’t you feel bad about that?”

The cop looked up from his writing for a split second and smiled. “Oh, the construction company pays for all of these tickets. So the construction guys are ok. What I want to know is – whose worryin’ about me?”

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