Traffic Official Demands a Cooldrink

South African currency

“THIS is a nightmare,” I remember saying to myself as a small handwritten sign pinned at the door, screamed: “... No bookings will be made today. Sorry for any inconvenience caused.”

I had woken up at 4am that Friday because my driving instructor had told us we needed to be on the road by 5am or 6am, the latest.

We were a group of four learner drivers going to Somerset East, about 180km outside Port Elizabeth, to make bookings for our driver’s licence tests.

We went to Somerset East because the “nearest” dates we could get from both Port Elizabeth and Uitenhage traffic department offices, were in March 2010.

The instructor, driving his idolised, left-hand-drive imported Jeep, came to pick me up at 5.30am; eventually leaving Port Elizabeth at about 6am.

Those familiar with the R63 road leading to Somerset East - serene small town, nestled at the foot of the Boschberg Mountains - would agree that the hills, farms and wild animals, along the route form a picturesque scenery that keeps one from boredom.

After more than two hours on the road we finally arrived at our destination. We went to a studio to have our photographs.

The instructor then took us around the town to show us where our driving skills would be “tested”. “There’s no traffic lights here, so all you have to worry about are stops- and-gos,” he told us firmly.

We then made for the local traffic department, run by the Blue Crane Route Municipality. We were pleased to see other Port Elizabethans “resting” under the trees at the department, it was a hot day after all.

Inside the office, a gum chewing cashier bluntly told us no bookings would be made, pointing at the door and asking: “Haven’t you read that (notice)?” The reason for this, she said was because they were operating with skeleton staff.

“But this can’t happen. We can’t just turn back to PE now,” said a dejected soul I had befriended, referring to the monetary waste that was hanging over us. The agreement with our instructor was that each would pay him R650 inclusive of transport, booking, and other expenses.

So we felt the logic was even if we don’t make bookings we would still have to give Ceaser what belongs to Ceaser - giving our instructor what is rightfully his, so to speak, minus the booking fees, of course.

One glance at the notice in the door crushed our spirits the more. We decided to just sit down and wait - for nothing, or perhaps a miracle to happen.

Unbeknownst to us, however, was that the PE group chatting under the tree, was cooking up a plan that would liberate pretty much all of us, but at a cost. It became clear that one of the key staffers at the department, who lives in Somerset East, was on leave. A plan was made to go “take” him so he may come and help us.

Thanks to a towering chubby lady, who’s friends with a police officer, that helped “bring” the on-leave member to the department to help us.

Just because the lady who had helped bring the officer to help us thought she was clever than the rest of us, she demanded that each of us pay R10 to give to the officer as a “token of appreciation” for his help. We understood where she was coming from, so we obliged.

But when she said we must also contribute R10 each towards her cellphone airtime she had used to call the policeman, who helped ferry the officer from his home to the department, we began to raise eyebrows. This demand was unanimously scorned.

But this was no match for what was yet to come. After the officer had done the applicants’ eye tests, we had to go back to the cashier to pay the required R294 for a booking.

Understandably, the gum chewing lady closed for lunch at 1pm. Her boyfriend came over and they had lunch together in the car, parked outside her office.

At 2.15pm, she finally stepped out of the car to go back to work. What followed was unspeakable. She stood at the door and demanded that each of us buy her a “cooldrink”, so she may process our bookings.

But role were “cooldrinks” going to play in making her do her job? To make her look “cool?” or she was plain lazy to do her work she needed some fuelling up? You’d never know. But seeing our frowns upon her impromptu demand, she quickly dismissed it (demand) as “a joke”

Needless to say, I was relieved when she finally processed my booking. This was quite an experience for all four of us, we said on our way back to PE.

But as a close friend told me, this was just part one. Part two, he said, included the actual driving test where - and I quote him - “a long-faced officer with a red pen will scrutinise you while aimlessly driving around with him”.

I couldn’t help but think: no wonder many learner drivers - while it is illegal to do so - take the shortcut of bribing these “long-faced officers” in order for them to "get" their driver’s licences.

By the way, I passed my driver's licence test on the first of April 2010. What better way to start a month?