Appellant: I have a citation I need waived.
Me: This citation is from June. Tickets need to be appealed within 14 days of the issue date.
Appellant: Well, I shouldn’t have gotten this ticket. I was parked in a lot that wasn’t supposed to be enforced during summer.
Me: All lots are still enforced during the summer, the rules just change a bit. Your car still needs to be registered.
Appellant: My car was registered, I had just gotten a new license plate and hadn’t updated the new one.
Me: So, your car wasn’t registered with the current plate.
Appellant: So, are you going to tell me that you are going to charge me $30 and not let me appeal even though I WAS registered and I shouldn’t have gotten a ticket for parking there?
Me: . . . uh, I guess that’s what I am telling you.
Appellant: I hate you.
10 minutes later the phone rings.
Appellant: I am trying to appeal this ticket online but I don’t want to give out my Social Security number.
Me: Just so you know, we are a state-certified police department and all our records are handled safely and confidentially.
Appellant: No. I don’t want to do that. I want you to void this over the phone now.
Me: I’m sorry. We don’t do over-the-phone appeals. We have to have a paper trail of our transactions. You can do the appeal online or come into our office.
Appellant: NO. I won’t do either of those. I need to you to void this for me now.
Me: If you don’t feel comfortable giving out your SSN, you can email us the appeal and include your Driver’s License number instead.
[It should be noted, I only set up this email address for appellants like this who refused to give their SSN. As a rule, we don’t do emails, but I was trying to help and accommodate her even though I could have just said “Tough luck. Those are your options.”]
Appellant: You are NOT making this very easy for me. Hold on. [speaking to someone in the room with her] This girl is an a**hole. I can’t believe what a b**ch she is. [speaking to me again] Fine. I’ll put in my SSN, but I want you to know I was NOT pleased with your service.
Me: I’m sorry. Have a good day!
It’s days like these when 18 months of doors slamming in my face and dogs chasing me sound downright pleasant.