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| To be fair, this was a different dump. |
THE DUMP AS CHAOS?
You may not have been to Queenstown dump.
Er. Waste Transfer Station.
Dumps, tips, are so last millennium.
Shame. I used to have such fun at the Paraparaumu Tip. Amazing treasures.
Oh well. Progress.
Anyway, you’ve probably not been to our dump. It’s quite an adventure. I went last week, decided it was the wrong place, did a U-ey, went next door to the recycling centre, was told my load had to go to the … wherever I just was … went back, joined the queue, eventually got to the weighbridge.
A sign tucked away to my left told me to watch for a green light.
Obedient, I watched. Well, I tried to. I couldn’t see a light anywhere. Blue, pink, magenta, whatever. I ventured forward, in my car, trying to find it.
A staff person came running. I had done A BAD THING. I had not waited for the green light. What green light? The staff person had the grace to be amused. She pointed way away to the sign, hard right (90˚) from where I had been, behind a massive loader.
Being well trained in the art of traffic lights I have generally found them to be in front of me. Even in Zambia. But no. 90˚ to the right.
I had to go around again. Sigh. This time I couldn’t find a fitting description for my waste. She helped me. It was e-waste.
I unloaded. Went to pay. Nope. I had to go around again. To come in again. To be weighed again. Perhaps like most places, Queenstown could invest in a second weighbridge?
I guess the locals know. As it happens a friend was there, too … I won’t name them. Chuckling. Even the staff said it was ridiculous.
Sigh. Ever tried to follow an Anglican Prayer Book? It’s a bit like that dump.
Unless every page and paragraph number is identified. Then it’s a bit like peak time Frankton Road traffic (gridlock, if you don't know Queenstown).
Which is why I print the service out each week.
