3 parking tickets, 3 askings. Let the games begin.

[I feel your pain! via seanfuture.blogspot.com]

If you wanted to appeal a parking ticket, what would be the best way to go about it?

Should you:

a) Look for inaccuracies in the way the ticket was written and argue that those render the citation invalid or untrustworthy?
b) Assert you had a parking permit properly displayed at the time the ticket was issued, which means you shouldn't have gotten cited in the first place? (aka a sorta, half, almost, goosebelly grey lie) (ok, fine, big fat lie)
c) Simply ask: tug at the appeal decider's heartstrings with an absurdly touching story about a preemie, then request clemency?

Ever in the pursuit of truth, your dastardly asker has decided to obtain not one but THREE tickets in December, so she could test each of these methods.

That's right. I was so excited to bring you the latest and greatest in parking ticket appeal techniques that between December 1 and December 4, I acquired three whole tickets. The first was for parking in my own driveway. The second two were for letting the meter expire.

Because the people deserve to know: Which method wins?

1) The "Invalid Ticket" method

I was cited for parking in my own driveway and touching the sidewalk with two wheels. In my appeal letter, I cited California Vehicle Code and tried to undermine the officer's competence.

CVC states that if the VIN (vehicle identification number) is visible on the dashboard, it must be written on the citation. My citation did not include the VIN, even though it is visible. Perhaps the ticket is invalid? Perhaps the officer was sloppy? Here's what I wrote:

I am writing to appeal citation number [###], issued on [##/##/####] at 8:40 a.m. I believe this citation is not valid for two reasons. California Vehicle Code section 40202 states that the vehicle identification number (VIN), if visible through the windshield, must be reported on a citation. Here is that code, for your reference.

The notice of parking violation shall also set forth the vehicle license number and registration expiration date if they are visible, the last four digits of the vehicle identification number, if that number is readable through the windshield, the color of the vehicle, and, if possible, the make of the vehicle. The notice of parking violation, or copy thereof, shall be considered a record kept in the ordinary course of business of the issuing agency and the processing agency and shall be prima facie evidence of the facts contained therein.

My VIN is visible through the windshield, yet it was not included on the citation, rendering that ticket noncompliant with California law.

2) Given that Officer [XXX] did not notice or record the VIN number, I do not know how anything he or she observed or reported on this ticket is trustworthy, hence presumed accurate. That is, if Officer [XXX] did not correctly record the VIN, how do we know he or she was not rushed, did not make other mistakes in issuing this ticket, including the very observation that my car was touching the sidewalk?

I have included two pieces of photographic evidence. First is a photo of the VIN number, and second is a second citation, obtained two days later, in which the VIN is reported. I provided the first so that anyone reviewing my case can see that the VIN is visible through the windshield, and the second image to show that another officer had no trouble reading these last four numbers.

Based on this information, I ask you to dismiss this ticket. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

La Roxy

[via giovanniworld.wordpress.com]

2) The "Lying Scum" method

Next, I got cited for having an expired meter in an area of a college campus where, if you possess a special permit, you can park for free around the clock.

A friend gave me his permit number (since it's not restricted to a single car) and I put that on the citation appeal form. He said if I need to go in to a hearing, he'll let me bring his permit. (Was the permit actually there? If a ticket and a permit walk into a bar and no one notices either of them, are they really there? Are any of us really every "here" or "there?" What is the meaning of life? Mommy?!)

Here is what I wrote:

Multi-use permit displayed on dashboard. Number provided in form above. Further documentation gladly provided.

3) The "Preemie in Danger" method

[via getty.com]

The last ticket I got, the very next day, was also for an expired meter. I had no good explanations or surprise revelations to resort to, and so I tried a different approach. The "Have mercy on me and indirectly participate in my good deed," approach. Here is what I wrote:

I am requesting clemency, mercy, or any leeway you can grant. I always dutifully either pay the meters or use a multi-purpose permit. That day I was on my way to my car, to move it, and on the way I stopped to say hi to someone who is extremely talkative. I realize I could have cut her off and gone to my car, but she was telling me about her new premature baby and I felt bad to say, "Gotta run! Hope she survives! Tell me another time!"

I know it's ridiculous to ask for mercy for something so trivial, but if there is any way you can forgive this, or give me a break of some sort, it would be a huge relief.

I was about to pay it, but I realized that I could at least try asking first.

Thank you,
La Roxy

Three tickets. Three askings. Results TBA.

Have a Grand New Every/Any Year

I'm seeing it everywhere, headlines, Facebook, casual conversations: "2009 is finally over" and "2010, rescue us!!"

I don't know about you, gentle reader, but I think 2009 wasn't all that bad.

True, a lot of bad things happened to a lot of good people. I understand why the collective impulse is to wash our hands of the whole icky thing. Lost jobs, lost homes. It was a humbling or confounding phase for many.

But let's not fling 2009 away just yet.

What if, instead of greeting 2010 as we would the latest red carpet ingenue -- with reckless adulation -- or granting it our instant approval, as a certain Norwegian prizegiving entity did for a certain American president back in April -- with anxious optimism -- we hold off judgment and let 2010 earn our trust?

And what if we hold on to this year, this 2009, with all its jagged stock yields and crazy apologies and people stuck on runways because of airline incompetence? Hold 2009 close. Talk to it, get to know it, water it, feed it, let it grow into something new and completely unrecognizable.

Perhaps we'd be less poised for disappointment.

2009, by the way, was an excellent year for asking. Including:

-- two airfare vouchers, almost by accident.
-- R-E-S-P-E-C-T, Italian style.
-- an angry salon owner to give a woman back her job.
-- I also completed my daily experiment, analyzed the results and decided to keep going.
-- I discovered 88 lessons, a list that continues to be emailed and retweeted to this day.
(--I've also asked for a few things these past days, but I've been so busy I haven't had time to report them. Looks like I'll be kicking off 2010 with a piece of 2009.)


A few people have inquired what my New Year's Resolutions are.

I have none.

Because I'm always making resolutions. And keeping them? Now that's a different story ;) This moment, for example, I resolve to: get over this cold. Live every day like it's the start of a new year. And every night like it's New Year's Eve!

Now here's what I wish you, today and always: health, happiness, plenty of bubbly, a clear eye on the past when it's answers you're looking for, and the freedom to claim a new beginning and a better future whenever you most need it.

In-Law Interlude

The in-laws are a-visiting, which means the only askings I've been doing for the past few days, and the only I foresee for the next few, are things like:

--How was your flight?
--Would you like another blanket or pillow?
--How is the weather in Montreal this time of year?
--Should we visit the botanical gardens or the harbor today?
--How do you take your coffee?
--Can you tell me stories about when Mr. A was a kid?

It's a totally relaxing break after a crazy period of work and preparations, and I'm gonna milk it.

And as soon as I do ask for something a little out of the ordinary, challenging or exciting, I'll plop down on this here armchair and let you know!

I also stopped the weekly asking threads, as of last week, since the interest seems to have died down. (i.e. no one was commenting.) I'll work on answering a few outstanding questions from readers, and we can pick up those threads again in the new year, or figure out where to go from there.

a presto,

La Roxy

Erstwhile askings (II): Prices and promo codes

Continued from the previous post, two more from the past few days. Finally have time to catch up here:

4) An asker walks into a deli

There is a cute new deli that opened a few blocks from my house. It's tiny, with a talkative owner, and all the prices are written on little papers taped onto the shelves. I walked in the first time and salivated at the prosciutto, jamon serrano, chorizo, imported olives, sandwich offerings, and oh so many cheeses. At reasonable prices!! Adorable!!

I went back a few days later and ordered some goodies.

Dutifully devoured them.

And then: the dull thud of disappointment.

For, the third time I went back, I noticed something was amiss. Same goods, same nice employees. But the prices had nearly doubled. The prosciutto, for which I'd paid $10.45 /lb a week earlier, was more than $19/lb. More than at Whole Foods! The sandwich that previously cost $4.50 was now $7.50. The olives were almost double.

The horror.

I did the only thing I could: I asked. As nicely as I could. But I had to know.

"So, I'm wondering if this prosciutto is different from the one you were selling last week. Because it costs twice as much. Is it a different brand, or did you just raise your prices?"

(Kind of beating around the bush, but I didn't want to phrase it like an attack.)

"Um, mm, I dunno."

Right.

He was an employee, so I think I may just go back and ask the owner. I actually am curious. Of course they're figuring out their prices, having recently opened. And if they can get away with those prices, good for them.

What strikes me, though, is that the first round of prices were clearly profitable, since they wouldn't have charged an amount that left them at a loss. So why the sudden change? Maybe they talked to a consultant, or people in the neighborhood exclaimed "What a great deal!", or they just got greedy.

No problem. But now I am curious. It can be a case study. In how to alienate customers.

5) Honor the promo code you advertise your own website?

I wrapped up shopping for presents online. One merchant, Red Envelope, promised a 25 percent discount if I used paypal. "Discount applied at checkout."

I filled my 'cart,' as they say, and then I proceeded to the checkout page. No discount.

I tried again, but no go.

So I called Red Envelope and asked for help.

This wasn't a request for extra discounts or super savvy shopping. Simply an attempt to make their website work properly. And it failed. Despite the "25% off" splashed across the top of the page, she couldn't get me to the page where the discount actually kicked in, saying it's Pay Pal promotion so they're not responsible. And she couldn't honor it over the phone.

Then why was the promo advertised on their site? Why did they allow me to be enticed to fill up a virtual cart, expecting 25% off, only to discover it was a fallacious statement?

I think we call that a bait and switch, ladies and gentlemen.

Is that even legal?

Pink slip, Red Envelope.

Erstwhile askings: Meryl, mullet and more

Between paragraphs these past few days, I snuck in a few askings. Nothing crazy, since I was mostly at home writing, but here they are:

1) Can we please change the subject?

I was glancing through the latest issue of Vanity Fair, which features an interview with Meryl Streep. The article includes a photo collage with Meryl from her teens or 20s until today.

Mr. A looked over my shoulder and, of all the movies she's been in that were splayed across that page, he had a question about only one:

"Is 'Sophie's Choice' any good?" (In this drama she plays Sophie, a Polish woman who makes a very difficult choice; it's based on a novel by William Styron.) The problem: That very book was wrapped and under our tree, a present for Mr. A.

I tried to play it down.

"It's average. A movie about World War II."

"Have you seen it?"

"No."

"Didn't you read the book?"

"Yeah, a few years ago."

"How is it?"

"Boring."

"What is the choice she makes?"

"It's stupid. It's a waste of time to even talk about it. Let's talk about something else, ok?"

"What? No, tell me her choice."

"You might want to see it one day."

"Not if you say it's boring."

"Arghhh! It's not boring, but I can't tell you. Let's just please change the subject."

"Let me guess. She decides if she should get an abortion. She isn't sure if she should comply with the Nazis."

"No! I mean I'm not going to answer either way. Please."

"Why?"

"What time is it? I think I'm ready for dinner."

"Why?? Just tell me and we can change the subject."

"Just wait."

His eyes lit up. Bingo. "Wait for what?"

"For Christmas. Congratulations, you've just guessed your present."

"Oh. Oops."

(I should add that somehow Mr. A always guesses his presents. I don't get it. Sometimes, when I pick up on his hints, it's not that hard for him to anticipate. But even when I get something totally random, like this book, which he had no way of knowing and I've mentioned maybe once, two years ago, he gets it out of me. YEGADS.

One more piece of evidence that I would not be a good spy. Police officer: "Excuse me, miss. Do you know what time is it?" Me: "I work for the People's Republic of China. Until last year I was involved in the special-ops mission in which I relayed sensitive government files to the division of biological programming. Now I am collecting encryption intelligence which I intend to sell to the highest bidder.")

2) PLEASE don't get a mullet?

More antics, just around the bend.

Mr. A hails from a country where English is not spoken, and as a teenager he moved to Canada, where he learned French and English. Hence, English is not his first language. He speaks it very well, but this means two things: he has a really cute accent. And he didn't know, until this weekend, what a mullet is. We were talking about the haircut he was intending to get, and the word came up. Don't ask me how.

Him: What's a mullet?

Me: It's that really gross hairstyle people used to wear in the 80's. You know, really long in the back, and short in the front.

Him: Really. Sounds interesting.

Me: No. It does not sound "interesting."

Him: I think I know what you're talking about. That's a pretty practical look. The hair would stay out of my eyes.

Me: And it would be long in the back. Long. Gross. Unfomfortable.

Him: I could put it into a ponytail.

[At this point I was pretty sure he was messing with me, but not entirely...]

Me: WHAT!? NO!! Please don't get a mullet!

Him: I think I will. I bet you'll get used to it.

Me: If you do, I won't look at you until you cut it again. I'll move to Italy.

Him: Just look at me from the front and you'll never notice it.

Me: PLEASE!! No mullet!!! Ewwwww!!! You totally would, wouldn't you!? NOOO!

Him: We'll just have to see. [Evil evil evil gleam in his eyes.]

We went to Supercuts together. A worthy study break, don't you think? I anxiously sat in the magazine section pretending to read, but I felt like a young father in an alien movie curious if his offspring would be human or hybrid after the mother-to-be accidentally ingested the alien spores. Or something.

In the end he got a perfectly charming cut. But not before making my heart race...

Phew.

3) Give me a discount on plumbing services?

Speaking of hair. The shower has been slow to drain. I tried drano, and a special little tool that came highly recommended, but nothing helped. So I called a plumber. Figured I'd be home all day, writing, so might as well take care of some business in the meantime. I also had a coupon for $50 off any service from Rescue Rooter, so why not give it a try.

First, I asked for an estimate.

"We don't give estimates over the phone. But I can have someone at your house within the hour. No obligation."

"Ok, sure, if you prefer that, I'll be here all day. Come whenever is convenient for you."

Twenty minutes later, a woman in blue overalls rang the doorbell. (It's the first time I've seen a female plumber. Cool!) I showed her the shower and she stated the price.

I wasn't sure I heard right.

"One hun-dred and eighty se-ven??" I checked.

"Yes. $187."

"Oh, wow, nevermind."

"How much did you want to spend?" she asked.

"No, it's ok. It isn't even worth negotiating. Much, much less than that. It's totally a low priority for me, but I just figured that if you could fix before our house guests arrive, I'd be willing to pay something like 50 bucks. But I cannot afford anything even close to that. Thanks anyway for coming."

"Hold on," she said. "I'm going to call my boss and see what I can do. I'll keep asking until he says yes. At least, I'll try!"

"Ok -- thanks!"

She stepped outside and came back a minute later to say it was a no go.

But I liked her attitude. And her overalls!

Next post: the next two askings. Broken down for user friendliness.

DONE

I have sitting in front of me a full draft of the chapter: 45 pages on two poems by Baudelaire.

It's not where I'd like it to be, but I realize it never will be. Because he is Baudelaire, and I am a Virgo. But that's that. I will give it one, max two, more edits and send it off tomorrow.

Once I decided that I had no alternative but to work on it, it suddenly became perversely easy. I hung out with a friend -- but at a cafe, she reading and I writing. I took breaks, but I was always eager to get back.

Your notes kept me on task in a way nothing quite has before. Thank you, dear readers.

Next post: Three askings I did manage to sneak in these past days...

But first, I think I'm going to go roast a chicken.

Dissertation Limerick

This arrived in my inbox:

Dissertation Limerick

To finally get that degree
You must put down the globes for the tree
Keep e-mail at bay
At least for the day
Soon you'll be La Roxy, PhD.

By TL

Just thought I'd share. 'Cause I love it. Thank yee, Tee!