Thursday, September 10, 2009

stubborn, principled, or just plain dumb?

Let's say, just for argument's sake, that you went downtown and obediently paid for two hours of parking, had a great lunch/meeting with a friend/colleague, returned to your car an hour and 53 minutes later, and found a parking ticket on your windshield, time-stamped 25 minutes earlier, stating that you have committed a parking infraction and are hereby fined $30.

And let's say that the three options you are given are to 1) pay the fine, 2) a second option of which I don't recall the details but which also involved paying the fine, or 3) dispute the charge, which means requesting a court date. No other options.

Now, let's imagine for a moment that you're kind of ticked at receiving a parking ticket that is so obviously inaccurate, and you really don't want to pay it. But at the same time, going through the hassle of disputing it will take more time and energy, as well as gasoline, to get down to the "parking tag operations" office to dispute the claim in person. Surely that time and effort is worth more than $30.

And yet... the "conspiracy theory" part of your brain starts kicking into gear... isn't this just a great scam? A bit too convenient? Write obviously erroneous parking tickets, calculate how many people will pay up just because that's the quickest and most convenient option, and - presto - new income for the City of Toronto! Can (should) they really get away with that?

With such thoughts rolling through my head, I drive down to the "Parking Tag Operations" office (yes, it's true, as you've astutely guessed... this situation is not as hypothetical as I've made it sound) and look for a parking spot. A very popular and busy building, it seems, with - you guessed it - only paid parking. So I'll need to pay for parking to go to an office to dispute ANOTHER parking ticket, which was so obviously and comically erroneous that I'm beginning to seriously suspect that the minute I park (and pay) someone is going to write me ANOTHER spurious ticket, just to add to the fun.

Forget it. I'm not paying for parking to dispute my parking ticket. So I drive around the neighbourhood, looking for a street where I can park for free and walk a few blocks. After a few circles and (illegal?) U-turns, I find a spot. I think. It's not clearly marked.

Great. If I park here to dispute my parking ticket, I might get an even bigger ticket... or get towed away...

Too late for debate. I'm committed now. Hold your breath, park the car, walk briskly down the street and into the building.

Into a room, steaming with humanity and signs instructing me to take a number and wait in line. Another opportunity to do the calculation of whether this is all worthwhile... and then a tired-and-irritated looking man (actually, we all look tired-and-irritated) said "parking ticket?"

"Yeah."

"You don't want to be here. Go down the hall and turn left."

"Oh... thanks," and, hope restored, I walk down the hallway.

Only to enter another room, with another, slightly less dense, steaming mass of humanity waiting in line. All - every single one - to dispute a parking ticket.

OK. This is getting sillier by the moment. It's 30 bucks, after all. Cut your losses and get out of there.

But no, I'm in too deep now. I've got to see this thing through.

So I stand, and wait, and wait... And wait. I notice a stack of "Notice of Intent To Appear" forms, which everyone else has. So I grab one and fill it out, and begin lending out my pen to various other folks to do the same. Surveying the room, I can identify various folks visibly farther down the road to "blowing a gasket" than me... including some who start muttering and uttering rude and insulting remarks, speaking threateningly of "linejumpers," playing to the crowd with comments about "stupidity" and "incompetence"... Others wait quietly and long-sufferingly...

My self-righteous-and-principled indignation begins to dissipate as I read the various signs alerting me that intimidating behaviour, shouting, profanity, etc. is not to be tolerated and may result in not being attended. And I start to look at the folks on the other side of the glass entirely differently, thinking how much I would HATE to have their job... how depressing this must be, to come to work and deal with masses of tired-and-irritated people like me, all day, every day.

As the sounds of people arguing about the inanity of this-and-that roll on, and the man in front of me explains to me why he's disputing his $450 ticket, I'm feeling more foolish by the minute. I compare my $30 ticket to the struggles and dangers of people dealing with real injustices at the hands of official-dom all around the world... I resolve not to cause any problems or delays - just hand the lady my form, get my receipt-or-whatever-it-is, and go. After all, this is already taking WAY longer than I expected, I'm hoping my car won't get towed, and I don't know how I'm going to get the day's stuff done before I have to get back and make supper.

As I'm jogging back down the street toward (hopefully) my parked car, I realize that I forgot to ask my question: "The times on this parking ticket, and on my receipt, clearly show that I did not in fact, commit a parking infraction. Do I really have to go to court to dispute this? Can't I show it to someone, and they'll dismiss it, and we'll save the whole system a big hassle?"

Can't believe I forgot to ask that. How stupid of me. As stupid as... as... as a traffic cop having a bad day and misreading the time-stamp on the parking receipt on somebody's dashboard...?

The car was still there, with no ticket flapping under the windshield wiper.

And then I discover, 4 days later, as I write this blog post and check a website or two, that "You may discuss your concern regarding the issuance of the ticket with a counter staff member, who has the authority to... (among other things)... withdraw the charge under certain circumstances."

Boy, do I feel dumb now.

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Monday, November 24, 2008

neo-luddite blogging dinosaur (or confessions of a facebook virgin)

It's true. I do not have a Facebook page, nor have I ever visited anyone else's (because you have to have to "sign up" first).

Oh, the shame.

I suppose as a regular member of society (?!) I could be forgiven for such an infraction. There are still a few of us around. But as everyone knows, "indie musicians" like myself are held to a higher standard. Our expertise and commitment to all-things-online-social-networking is apparently the key to our survival and cutting-edge-ness in this new digital age.

It gets worse. I also don't have a myspace page... I don't have any photos on flickr... or videos on YouTube... and on top of the various automatic e-mails asking if I want to become someone's facebook "friend" I am now reliably informed that I should be on Twitter, and Ning, and Ping (or is it "Pong"?)...

And to think, 5 years ago I thought it was pretty neat to have a website of my own. And then beginning a blog, I thought, put me right on the forefront of the foot-dragging late-adopter wave of the digital revolution.

But now it's getting kind of lonely out here, as more and more of the folks who started blogging around the same time as me have long since migrated over to facebook and who-knows-how-many-subsequent-generations-of-social-networking-technology where it seems I can't even read any of their stuff without "signing up" or something...

Hey, I miss you guys! Why don't you come back for a visit sometime? Oh, I understand. You need to keep up with all your new facebook friends now. That's ok. Really.

In the meantime, I'll just keep puttering along over here... you know where to find me if you ever have time to come back for a visit. I know it isn't much. But it's home.

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Tuesday, September 16, 2008

the race is on

No, I'm not referring to the election campaigns north or south of the border.

My guitar - built by Phil Campbell-Enns of Steinbach, Manitoba - has been with its maker since July, when I left it there for Phil to install a new pickup that he claims sounds "HUGE"...

It's been a while finding its way back into my loving arms... here's Phil's delightful description of the wanderings of the part, complete with a mysterious detour through Texas:

"... so i got a hold of a 'ups' tracking number and found out that your pickup got shipped 5 days later than was promised by seymour duncan, then left goleta, california, then went to los angeles, then was incorrectly routed (says the tracking info) to conroe, texas. then it went to houston, texas, then to mequite, texas, and finally to dallas before leaving the lone star state. then it went on to kansas city, eagan, minnesota, and minneapolis, minnesota before making it's way to winnipeg, where it now lies in wait for the final trek to steinbach on monday."

And today Phil reports that the pickup has arrived, he has installed it, and the guitar has now begun its return journey to me, passing through the hands of various co-conspirators who are relaying it by car and plane... ETA in Toronto on Friday... just in time for my Saturday gig and a full fall performance schedule...

The race is on! Will the guitar arrive in time? in one piece? Will Bryan be able to cope with his new-found ability to just "plug in" with an instrument that, in the words of its builder, "... your guitar now roars!! plugging it in might make you feel like you're driving a serious hot rod - lots of jam under the hood."

Wow!

Yes, I know. This is what passes for excitement in my life. Humour me, ok?

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Wednesday, May 21, 2008

saving 45,000 trees, apparently

a transcription of our latest environmental adventures, somewhere in Orangeville on our way to a weekend with family...

cast of characters, in order of appearance:

BMS - Bryan Moyer Suderman
PPE1 - Pizza Pizza Employee 1
PPE2 - Pizza Pizza Employee 2
MMS - Matthew, our 10 year old son
JMS - Julie Moyer Suderman

BMS (approaching counter with napkin in hand): I see here that it says "We are saving 45,000 trees per year by using red kraft pizza boxes." I'm curious - how does using red boxes save 45,000 trees per year?

PPE1 (bemused): ummm... I don't know.

PPE2 (earnestly): I don't know... maybe, like, because it's red?

BMS: You mean using RED pizza boxes saves trees? As opposed to, say, blue or green...?

PPE2 (giggling): I really have no idea.

BMS: Are the pizza boxes made of recycled paper, maybe? But I still wonder what the colour red has to do with it...

PPE1 (shrugging): I don't know...

BMS (walking back to table): Ok... thanks... I'm glad we're saving 45,000 trees per year, I was just curious how it works...

MMS (at table, finishing pizza slice and looking at the paper sleeve it's served on): It says "please recycle me"... where should I put it?

(BMS, JMS, MMS all look around room, notice garbage can and bin for recycling bottles... but no bin for paper...)

BMS (approaching counter with pizza slice sleeve in hand): Hi there. It's me again. We'd like to help save 45,000 trees by recycling these... can you tell me where we should put them?

(BMS and PPE1 and PPE2 scan the room)

PPE1 (bemused): ummm... I don't know.

PPE2 (giggling): You could, like, give them to us, I guess.

BMS (peering behind the counter, not seeing any recycling bins): Oh... ok, we'll do that. Here you go...

PPE1 (smiling bemusedly): Thank you!

PPE2 (smiling earnestly): Thank you!

BMS (waving on the way out the door with JMS and MMS): Thank you! It's been nice saving trees with you!

JMS (as we walk out the door): Bryan, you weren't being very nice. They just work here...

MMS: I bet I know where they're going to put that stuff...

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Monday, April 21, 2008

not a joke I'd recommend making...

... next time you're doing a concert "for small and tall" at a community pancakes-and-sausage breakfast... and you see a family with a little girl holding tightly to a cute little stuffed pig... and you say:

"Wow, great idea - you brought your own sausage!"

Oops.

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Friday, March 07, 2008

hallelujah!

Not just because Easter is coming... and March Break is here... but - forgive me - I couldn't stop laughing at this...

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Thursday, May 10, 2007

adapting to new technology

As I work on the next delivery of songs for the members of SmallTall Music (a process that is, by and large, a joy and a delight), I've been struggling with the mp3 encoder in my recording software (a process that, by and large, isn't...)

So I couldn't resist pointing you towards this YouTube clip that had me laughing so hard I practically fell off my chair...

Anybody else feel this way?

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