Standing Room | 1 August 2009

How nice all our daily lives used to be before millions of David Brent wannabes saw fit to take the mother of all executive decisions and irrevocably tip the scales of justice away from our grasp. Hard to remember, but there was a time when authoritarians were still occasionally allowed to make ‘exceptions’ to the rules. Those halcyon days of reasonable behaviour have long gone. We are seldom — if ever — given the chance to even explain our wrongdoings any more. No rule-enforcing flunkey has the time, inclination, facility, courage or authority to veer off-piste and listen to (let alone act on) gut instinct. To do so is, literally, more than his job is worth. Sad, but true.

It used to be that every once in a while a parking attendant spontaneously ‘let one off’ a ticket. They let one off because they were allowed to listen to an excuse. They were allowed to be human and to have a heart. They could weigh up individual circumstances, make snap decisions and had the balls, gumption and power to actually put their pen down and physically tear up the piece of paper. End of story. I can’t recall the last time I heard the words, ‘Just this once, I’ll make an exception.’ Nowadays the general public is seldom — if ever — given the benefit of the doubt. Modern technology has cunningly provided the perfect excuse for jobsworths to behave unreasonably and with gleeful obduracy. They can’t tear up a ticket because once they’ve activated their little hand-held computers and started acting like David Bailey with their dinky Canon Sure Shots — it’s already far too late for them to backtrack. Oh, they can give you a number to quote should you wish to write a detailed dossier explaining your mitigating circumstances, but basically you’re doomed. You’re guilty unless you can prove your innocence.

Airport officials are no different. Checking in one’s luggage has become as humiliating an ordeal as stepping on to the scales at WeightWatchers. Four pounds overweight? Shame on you. Gone are the days when a winsome smile resulted in a blind eye being turned in your favour. Now it’s a case of pay up or get off.

We’re all been reduced to chugging along on a catastrophic conveyor belt of intransigence. I lost my validated parking ticket at Marks & Spencer the other day alongside my temper. I’d just spent £80 on food and had somehow managed to reach the car park barrier before realising I’d mislaid/eaten/dropped my exit ticket. Even after forensically searching my car it was nowhere to be seen. I pressed the help button and tried to ignore the impatient cacophony of horns behind me.

‘Proof of purchase,’ demanded a voice that had the power to raise the bar and free me.

‘My groceries?’ I asked, pointing to my back seat weighed down with food.

‘I need more proof than that,’ he said. ‘Much more proof. How do I know you haven’t just taken advantage of our facilities and done your shopping somewhere else?’

‘This is not just any food,’ I replied archly, sounding not dissimilar to Lady Bracknell. ‘This is my M&S food.’

I think we both raised the bar at exactly the same time.