Parking
Saturday, August 27th, 2005While I was parking to get to the gig on Wednesday I encountered an insidious new development in parking technology. The ticket machine required you to enter your car registration. I assume this is a petty attempt to claw back a few pence in revenue by the local council, by stopping people donating their half-used tickets. If this was America, though, I might be worried that this was a conspiracy to track my movements.
Having entered my registration number, I squinted at the remaining instructions in the orange neon glow of the street lights. They indicated I should press the green button. Four coloured buttons huddled in the top right-hand corner of the box: Red, yellow, green, blue. I pressed green. I pressed green again. Nothing.
Green. Green. Green. Green. Green!
Nothing.
I pressed red for cancel, got my coins back and moved over to the machine’s twin, assuming that my first choice must be broken. Reg-is-tra-tion typ-ed in and green. Green. Green. Green. Green!
Nothing.
Having been thwarted by both machines I resorted to re-reading the instructions. Red button cancels, yellow is unused, blue is unused, green to get the ticket. Red, yellow, blue then green? Who the hell puts colours in that order?
I pressed the blue button and out popped my ticket.
As I triumphed over stupid design I had to surpress my dual desires to dance a little jig and kick the machine, because a young woman came up to the other machine, looking confused at the above average number of buttons on the machine.
“Do you have to enter your registration number?!”
“Yes, and also, you need to press this button not that button to get your ticket. I thought this button was the green button, but actually it’s this one, because they’re in the wrong order.”
“Sorry?”
“This button’s the green button not that one. I got confused, because they’re in the wrong order.”
“What? Are you colour blind or something?”