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Melbourne Central train station is like a breeding ground for these guys. They congregate first thing in the morning hoping to deal out their fair share of tickets in order to make themselves into societies image of justice and perfection. They, in a sense, have taken over the job of the police in issuing fines and seem to do a much better job of targeting the youth than what the coppers ever did. I'm sure the boys in blue will be feeling rather disappointed knowing that these middle-aged wankers have taken their rightful position on the podium.
On more than one occasion I have been fined that special on the spot $100 because I simply couldn't be bothered buying a damn concession card that says, yes; I am a school goer. I showed them my licence, my school ID, hell – I even produced a maths book and a school diary to demonstrate that it was me and that I was at the current school but that didn't do diddly squat. Instead one surly looking monster with his partner in crime, Elmo, decided to ring my parents to confirm my identity and then slapped a fine on me. To boot, they took away my daily ticket, which cost me a precious $4.75 and sent me on my way. I mean – what the hell? These guys are the prime examples of why there is a distinct lack of respect for weighty individuals. The police I can respect – they're packing heat but with ticket inspectors? It just won't happen.
I walk down the street and see them in groups of three or more, hovering over what looks like a day sheet with huge cheesy grins on their faces. It's almost as if some sick and twisted satisfaction comes from issuing penalties to people that don't give a damn either way. One thing they are renowned for doing is targeting a specific audience in the general public. You'll find them between the ages of 14 and 25. They are the youth of today, the leaders of tomorrow deciding on how corny you want to get. I would run out of fingers the toes to count the number of times I have seen one of these guys (or girls to be politically correct) walk up to a punk, smoking a cigarette and doing no harm and demand to know where his ticket is. It is simply unbelievable. I dress depending on my mood. They don't come near me when I'm gothed up yet find me a target when I'm dressed in my raver gear. These are the problems that face the majority of teenagers and young adults today. It's not drugs, alcohol or STD's – it's prejudice natures against an audience that most of the time minds their own business. We are asked to contend with narrow-minded imbeciles, attempting to lord their extra 20 or 30 years over us because they can.
Not only are they rude in nature but awful sounding in speech. They're impolite and seem to bear a grudge against everyone not wearing a little Connex pin or supplying a shiny silver badge with the ID number on it. It's like, "OI! Connex patrol here. Show me your ticket NOW. Show me your concession card NOW. Why didn't you get one, huh? HUH?" It goes downhill from there, which in itself is quite unsatisfactory. The world survived quite nicely without them once upon a time but low and behold, greediness prevails and as such, these bastards are given jobs at interrogating anyone they can see. I'm sure given the chance; these people would harass their own mothers if it meant they could get a seat in the big world of fining. The title of big cheese would be all too nice to them.
