Block Chop 7:

The bin men around here are a disgrace.  Before I continue, if anyone has contacts in the bin-man industry, please don’t tell them where I live.  I don’t want any nasty repercussion such as having my wheelie bin left a short walk from my gate, or having an angry face drawn on my letter box >:(

Walking down the road this morning at the same time as the bin collection I saw a sorry sight.  A milk carton, and a few other pieces of detritus had fallen from a slightly over-fill bin.  They lay helpless on the pavement unable to crawl back up into their rightful binnish place.  But hurrah, along comes a saviour.  The bin men; surely they, being that it is their job, will rescue these lost souls, gaining them entry into the rubbish party in the back of the bin lorry.  But, no; what’s this?  This refuse representative; this sanitation soldier, has forsaken his duties.  He casually kicks aside the floor-bound waste, half acknowledging its presence as he drags the wheelie bin to the back of the dump truck.  The waste wagon’s mechanical device lifts, empties, and then returns the bin.  As our man returns the bin to the pavement he looks directly at the trash he had only casually acknowledged previously.  This time his full attention is drawn to it.  Will he spend a split-second to sweep his gloved hand down to the ground then across to the back of the lorry?  Will he fuck.  Another kick sends the litter across the pavement, where it lies gently oscillating in the light morning breeze.  And on he moves, without a care in the world.  Without exhibiting what should surely be basic standards of his profession.

Ahead of the bin wagon, where the bin men have yet to venture, the streets are largely free from litter, and the pavements are navigable.  Yet as I walk away, in the opposite direction to the bin route, I observe the destruction.  The frequency of litter is much higher: scraps of greasy paper, crushed tins, the spilled entrails of gutted black bin-liners.  Much worse however, the pavements are blocked by hundreds of sloppily placed wheelie bins.  The old ladies with their shopping bags, and the young mothers with their prams, are now obliged to walk in the road.  Every few yards the street is blocked by bins.  Further back up the road the unemptied bins are neatly lined up against garden walls; on the pavement, but tidy so as not to block the street.  The residents are considerate.  But due to simple stupid, inconsiderate, laziness emptied bins are everywhere.  Most people are taught as a child to put things back where they found them.  At the bin man job interview the first question is “Where are you supposed to put things when you have finished with them?”  If you answer “Back where you found them,” you are out; interview terminated.  If you answer “duhh” you are in the maybe pile.  And if you don’t answer at all cos you are listening to tinny music on your phone; you’re hired!

I thought the purpose of collecting rubbish was so that we don’t have to live surrounded by it.  I thought the council was opposed to obstructed roads and pavements.

I felt a pang of guilt before pressing "publish post".  It's not the nicest or most highly-respected of jobs, and in general it is an essential service that we all rely upon.  I'm also certain that is is a much more enjoyable job than telesales, and much more highly respected.  I considered editing to be less sarcastic, but then looked out of my window to see all I have just written confirmed.