You see here, she says, her Spanish accent still thick despite her years in Ireland. It is in date, it is registered to here, my business.
Yes, yes, I know all this, but I’m polite.
Yes, but it’s not registered to this particular vehicle, I reply, realising I’m now actually enjoying our first conversation.
This vehicle, she snaps quite suddenly, is my husband’s. I’m borrowing it for the day. My car is at the garage. NCT test is coming up.
She didn’t need to say test. NCT stands for National Car Test, so technically she has said National Car Test test. She probably doesn’t know what it stands for, not very good English, isn’t that what Pauline said. She was right about that. Let’s see how accurate the other summary of her was.
You see everything is in order, she says in a very matter-of-fact final way, a woman who’s used to getting what she wants. Speaking to me as if I’m a child, though she doesn’t know I’m her child. There are no problems here, she says, sliding the disc back into the plastic shell on the window. She has a problem with authority. She’s a mother, the owner and boss of her business, she’s president of the Malahide Chamber of Commerce. She does not like to be wrong.
Only there is a problem because she is wrong.
The rules clearly state that if you change your vehicle, you need to apply to change the vehicle details on your payment, I say.
But I have this car only for one day.
She uses her hands to express every point. She also raises her voice. Temper temper. Dramatic. Disturbed. She hasn’t changed. She rants and raves, loudly.
You people, she says to me and unleashes her tirade on how parking is ruining the small businesses in the village.
This is ridiculous, this is a disgrace, she finishes, then mumbles something in Spanish. Oh if only I’d kept up those classes. I could reply to her, see how she’d take that. The salon door opens. Is everything okay, Carmen, her employee asks. Carmen. People call her Carmen for short. I’m learning a lot about her now in this small exchange. Diamonds are formed under extreme pressure and boy is she shining now.
And this is not funny she continues, how dare you laugh at me, I’m going to complain to your superior, give me your name. And that is when it is all not fun any more, if fun is the word, which it probably isn’t, insightful maybe, educational, because I definitely cannot give her my name because then she will know who I am. There aren’t many Birds, she’ll know immediately and I can’t have her finding out like this.
Suddenly it hits me. What the hell am I doing. I’m making a mess of it all. Tristan can even see that. He’s trying to stop me though I don’t know why, what I’m doing to myself here is worse than every blow he could throw at me in his psychotic video game. You don’t get a second chance at a first impression, this is how I’m beginning the relationship with Carmencita. What am I doing. Self-sabotage, I do it so well. I need to reel this in now, the anger inside me has dissipated and now I feel fear.
Give me your name, she repeats.
I can’t tell her my name. When she hears my surname she’ll know.
I understand your frustration, Ms Casanova … And I can’t believe I’m saying her name out loud, to her. Hearing my voice makes me feel shaky. I hear it in my voice, the fear and awe of who I’m speaking to.
Oh now you’re being nice, she laughs at me. Now you’re afraid, she taunts me.
I’m here almost every day, I say, I don’t know if you’ve noticed me, but your details are always above board.
She backs down a little at that, but she’s looking cocky. Like she’s won and I can’t let that happen. Not again.
I have already issued you a fine, the details have already gone through on my machine. But you are perfectly free to appeal the fine. It is my duty to call it in, but you can take your issue up with the council.
Oh I will, she says, hands on hips feistiness back. I’m the president of the Chamber of Commerce, I happen to know the council very very well.
Once your appeal is received the fine will be placed on hold until the appeal is decided, I explain calmly and rationally, as she continues to huff and puff. They’ll look at the by-laws, the photographs I’ve taken, your evidence in order to make their decision.
Look how good I am at my job, Mother dearest, I want to shout. Look at me, listen to me, I’m following all the rules. If you were at home and I returned to you in the evening and told you about a woman like you, you’d be proud, cheering me on with how I’ve dealt with this. Look at me, Mam, look!