On the beat with the clampers

A morning spent with Dublin’s much-maligned clampers reveals a job not for the thin-skinned – verbal and even physical abuse is common for those charged with putting manners on motorists

THEY’VE DONE it to rock stars. They’ve done it to politicians. One well-known footballer was none too pleased when they did it to him, while a writer of note gave them “dog’s abuse”. But in the democratic world of Dublin’s clampers, nobody is immune.

“I clamped a nun once,” admits David Spencer of Dublin Street Parking Services as his co-clamper Colm Corrigan starts up the van. “I was so embarrassed because everyone stopped to have a look when they saw the nun standing in the middle of the road while I was clamping her car.” Those who witness David Spencer performing his duties, clamping cars, buses, coaches and any other motorised vehicle he finds illegally parked – “There’s nothing that can’t be clamped” – often do more than just stand and watch, however.

“Somebody will be passing by and they’ll shout something over the road or they’ll even stop a car while the traffic is moving,” says Spencer of the daily reactions he gets as he does his job. “They’ll stop their car in the middle of the road to tell us what they think of us.”

A morning’s trip around Dublin with Spencer and Corrigan testifies that it’s not just their sensitivities talking. As they breeze around their Dublin beat, clamping parking offenders as they go, passers-by pause to critique their work, berate them, and in one case, to call them the devil.

“Spitting is the worst,” says Spencer. “People driving by will spit on you out the window.”

And it’s not just spitting they have to worry about, Spencer explains, as he spots another violation and pulls on disposable latex gloves to protect his hands as the clamp goes on. “Motorists that get a bit disgruntled after getting clamped – and we’ve seen them physically do this – actually urinate on the clamp.”

Thankfully, in the course of our morning together, nobody takes things that far. Of the five vehicles clamped – among them an Audi, two Mercedes and a Lexus, bearing out Spencer’s theory that “the luxury cars will take more chances than the older cars” – there’s only one owner who shows up, and after a feeble protest, he admits he was at fault and coughs up. “A lot of them just say fair enough,” says Spencer. “And after they’ve paid for it, and you’ve taken the clamp off, they’ll even say thank you.”

In Spencer’s experience – and he’s been a clamper since the service was introduced back in 1998, and is now a supervisor for the company – reactions can vary according to gender too. “Women tend to try the waterworks, to throw little tantrums,” he says. “We find through experience that women tend to put a little song and dance on, while a fellow might just take it on the chin and pay up.”

We also witness several “runners” over the morning, clamper terminology for people who “come out of the woodwork” as soon as the clamper van is spotted, and hightail it to the car to get there before the dreaded lock is on. It’s a small window – “It takes 25 seconds max to get a clamp on” – but people can be remarkably speedy when it comes to avoiding the €80 fine that ensues if the clamp goes on.

The routine is simple: spot a violation, pull over, slap a sticker on the driver window warning of the clamp attached, put the clamp around a wheel and lock it in place, and take pictures of everything as you go in case the clamping is appealed.

It’s a quick process, but offenders are often alerted to the approach of a clamper van by other motorists beeping their horns in warning. Cue the runners, who, if they arrive on scene before the final lock is on, are usually rewarded with a verbal warning and the removal of the clamp.

“If we haven’t got the lock on the clamp, we’re obliged to give the car back if the owner returns,” explains Spencer. Having learned little from experience, all of our morning’s runners admit to having been clamped before.

ONE WOMAN WHO narrowly avoids a clamp acknowledges it’s her lucky day, and vows to do the Lotto to maximise her good fortune.

Those who watch her scoot off clamp-free are less impressed, however. “That woman is parking there every day and running out when the clampers arrive,” says one disgruntled witness from the shop across the road. “She has a routine and knows how to get away with it. It’s frustrating because we’re all paying for parking and playing by the rules.” Our second runner, who narrowly evades clamping on the “golden mile” – the name clampers give to the stretch from Trinity Street up South William Street, famed for parking violations – has clearly run the full length of it to do so, and is gasping for breath by the time he reaches Corrigan, on his knees before the wheel with the padlock in his hands. On realising he’s made it – and yes, this gentleman has been clamped before – he grins from ear to ear, offers a full apology and drives off with promises never again to set as much as the tip of his exhaust pipe in a loading bay.

The third runner of the day is more of a brisk walker, only making it across the road in time by the skin of her teeth. She begins an elaborate explanation about having to drop in keys and leave in that, and pick up the other, but Spencer and Corrigan have said their bit and have no interest in her tales of woe.

“We’ve heard every excuse under the sun,” says Corrigan. “‘I’ve cancer.’ ‘I’m going to collect my mother.’ ‘I’m going to collect the kids.’” Spencer adds to the litany. “‘My mother won’t sleep, I have to collect the sleeping pills.’ You get the whole life story of the whole family before you can get a word in edgeways.”

Nothing seems to faze these two, who exude such unflappable calm in the face of constant tension and abuse that they could easily double-job brokering peace in the Middle East.

Much of their calm is down to temperament, while the rest is training, according to Spencer, who calls his own technique the “broken record” approach – repeating the same point over and over, without ever raising his voice.

Before they get to handle the clamp, new recruits have to go through a two-week intensive training course covering bylaws, exemptions and all the possible parking offences, of which the “top 10”, according to Spencer, include parking in paid parking areas without a ticket, or without observing the three-hour maximum-stay rule, parking in disabled bays, parking on footpaths, in loading bays and on cycle tracks.

Trainees also get instruction on customer care, health and safety, and confrontational training, the latter part of essential preparation for a job resented by so many members of the public.

CONTRARY TO WHAT some may believe, clampers working for Dublin Street Parking Services, which has the parking-enforcement contract for Dublin City Council, do not get commission for cars clamped.

Though the clampers wear a uniform that identifies them easily, they are often recognised out of it too, and are sometimes made pay the price for “keeping Dublin moving”. “One of our fellows went to a pub recently, and the doorman says ‘No, I’m not letting you in because you clamped me last week’,” recalls Spencer.

Doesn’t it bother him that people are so resentful of the job he does? “It’s water off a duck’s back at this stage.”

Those who feel hard done by can appeal his decisions after all, with a third of appeals against clampers’ decisions upheld last year by an independent parking appeals officer.

“There are times when we’ve clamped cars in the wrong,” admits Spencer. “We’re not perfect. And if we make a mistake, we have to put our hands up.” Which is more than can be said for many of those who return to their parked cars to find a large yellow iron clamp on one of their wheels and call down all manner of curses on Dublin Street Parking Services.

It doesn’t seem to bother Spencer, however. “I like the work I’m doing,” he says. Corrigan is equally upbeat. “It’s something different every day, meeting different people, so it’s very enjoyable.” Even if you’re the most hated professionals in Ireland? Spencer laughs. “Nah,” he says with a grin. “That’d be the taxi drivers.”

200

the average number of cars clamped every day by Dublin Street Parking Services

€80

the charge to have a clamp removed

24

the number of hours you have to pay for the clamp removal before your car is brought to the pound

€160

the charge to have your car removed from the pound

€35

the amount charged for every day your car is stored in the pound

65

the number of clampers employed by DSPS

1

the number of female clampers employed by DSPS

57,632

the number of motorists clamped by DSPS last year