Mad About You
Having a Job That Ticks Off Everybody Isn't as Bad as You Might Think

By Dan Zak
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, August 31, 2008

It's Labor Day weekend, so we paused to think about work. Then we started thinking about people whose work attracts the suspicion, dismissal or loathing of the general public.

The auditor: pickpocketing our hard-earned money.

The used-car salesman: passive-aggressive liar with a glinting Rolex.

The criminal defense attorney: slimeball in a suit, standing up for nefarious creatures.

The ballpark umpire: blind, deaf, clearly on the other team's payroll.

The parking enforcement officer: For the love of God, $40 for going two minutes over the meter?

Prejudiced generalizations, surely. Auditors and umpires are merely convenient targets for our personal frustrations. Car salesmen and defense attorneys are stock villains in pop culture, not necessarily bad guys in real life. And without parking enforcement, our streets would be jammed with scofflaws' cars.

Instead of appreciating our work today, we're going to appreciate their work and the nonsense they have to put up with by virtue of their titles.

Interviews by Dan Zak

The Parking Enforcement Officer

Cheryl Wilkins, 42, walks her beat like a regular cop. She knows the faces and cars of the people who live on N and O streets NW between 19th and 21st. Residents have invited her in for meals and turned to her to solve certain mysteries. She's all smiles, but she means business: She will ticket your car if you're one minute over the parking limit. Furious drivers have hurled every kind of invective at her, but the law's the law. Her job is to enforce it.

Wilkins, a mother of two who lives in Northeast Washington, has worked for the city's parking enforcement administration for nearly three years. She has developed a thick skin for both the weather and stormy attitudes. We spent an hour with her on a beautiful August morning to get closer to that heretofore faceless entity who leaves that nice pink slip under our wipers.

What tricks do people pull to avoid a ticket?

Sometimes they'll move from one location to another inside the same zone. I'll have to go through and make sure my eyes aren't playing tricks on me. Their objective is to try and beat me.

Can they?

She shakes her head no, then tosses a "Happy Friday" to a pedestrian.

What's the best part of the job?

Being outdoors and meeting a variety of people.

The worst part?

The irate citizens. The profanity. It's not every day. Usually people are mad at themselves. If their tone is too high, I'll say, "Hold on, calm down, let me explain." In most cases I allow them to vent first. A ticket can be just the trigger to something going on in their lives, and I'm just the person to take it out on. I maintain my voice. My focus is to not allow anyone else to hear me so I don't appear combative. If you cannot handle the public, you do not want this job.

I bet you hear a lot of wild excuses.

Whenever I do, I say, "That is really a good one. I've never heard that before." That defuses the situation. I try to make a bad situation easier.

She gets to a BMW on N Street.

I want that car.

She tickets it.

Any advice for drivers ?

Blinkers are a red flag for us. Hazard lights are for emergencies, not for telling parking officers "I'll be right back." Take your time to observe all the signs, the red and the green: what you can't do and what you can do. And I'd ask people to give us respect, like us or not.

The Criminal Defense Lawyer

A cartoon framed in William Moffitt's Alexandria office shows 12 jurors acquitting Sami al-Arian, the Florida professor accused of supporting Palestinian terrorists in 2005. The title of the cartoon is "The Real Patriot Act." Moffitt was al-Arian's attorney, perhaps his most recent visible assignment.

Moffitt, 59, grew up in New York, went to law school at American University, was hired as a clerk at the first racially integrated law firm in Northern Virginia in the early '70s and now runs his own practice. His client list has ranged from the high profile (controversial political activist Lyndon LaRouche Jr.) to the local (a clinically insane man who went on a stabbing spree in Alexandria). Moffitt, a Reston resident, takes pride in often being the lone person to stand up for the accused in the face of a powerful government and judgmental public.

Why did you become a criminal defense lawyer?

My mother raised me on "Perry Mason." Seven-thirty in New York every Saturday night. I always wanted to be a criminal defense lawyer. For some reason that always attracted me. You know, defending people against the power of the state is a very, very heady experience.

Does hostility toward a client ever turn into hostility toward you?

It sometimes does. Not always. I've seldom had a case where people were particularly angry at me. We got some pretty angry stuff on e-mails when we were doing Sami's case.

Like what?

"How could you represent this guy?" "He's a known terrorist." "How could you do that?"

How did you respond?

Most of my defense was that he was exercising his First Amendment rights. I wasn't calling anybody names; I wasn't calling the U.S. government crooked or anything like that. I was essentially raising a defense that people could understand. . . . We took the position -- as defense attorneys often do -- that we're educating people. One of the greatest things about what I do is my opportunity to use the courtroom as a place to educate people about things they don't really know about.

What's the worst part of the job?

The frustrating part about the system is that it isn't always right or always fair. Innocent people are sometimes convicted. Guilty people sometimes walk away. And you have to adjust to the notion that you are a participant in an imperfect system.

Is there anything you want the general public to know about your field?

Most of the people who are involved in the practice of criminal law are involved because they love people. The idea is that in order to get justice in an imperfect system, someone has to fight for it. And that's what thousands of people are doing every day -- many of them court-appointed, underpaid, overworked and what have you. But their dedication to the system of justice is what ought to be exalted, not the fact they represent a particular individual who may or may not be accused of something very serious or difficult to understand.

The Used-Car Salesman

Wanda and Frank Lewark have been in the used-car business for 40 years. A non-traditional, laid-back attitude guides their work at Auto Buying Service in Fairfax, and the rewards have flowed from there. The office walls are covered with "Quality Dealer" plaques. Wanda, 64, has been officially commended by the Virginia General Assembly for her community service and is the first and only woman to have won the National Quality Dealer Award from the National Independent Automobile Dealers Association.

The business runs in the family. The Lewarks' daughter, Betsy Briggs, 44, is the general manager, and Briggs's daughter, Christie Black, 22, works the front desk. With women at the helm and a thorough but relaxed ethic, Auto Buying Service all but demolishes the stereotype of the used-car salesman.

The term "used-car salesman" has a negative connotation. Why?

Wanda: When we first opened the business, I happened to see a dealer that we knew that was in business in Fairfax. And he said, "Oh, you're going to love this business. You can steal all kinds of money from Uncle Sam, and you can overprice the cars and take advantage of people and get away with it." And I'm sitting there thinking, "We don't want to do that." We just want to go to work each day, make a decent living and provide a service.

How do you put people at ease?

Frank: We have a nice, friendly, casual, inviting environment. Even if we weren't honest, we have a real edge there.

Betsy: Plus, we don't put pressure on people. If they want to think about it, we say, "Okay." Whereas another dealer would figure out --

Frank: How to close the deal.

Betsy: We're just ourselves. People aren't dumb. They know about cars. They know what they want, they want to look at things and we just show them. If you serve customers and be honest, you'll stand out.

Ever get an unfavorable reaction when you tell people you sell cars?

Frank: Back in the day you'd say you were a used-car salesman and the red flags really went up. You were right down there with attorneys.

Betsy: When I was younger and people found out what my parents did, they'd go, "Oh, they sell used cars."

Wanda: See, but we care about the reputation of our industry. That's why I've done volunteer work. . . . I wanted to change the industry. As a result of my involvement, now when someone wants to be a dealer in Virginia, they have to go to two days of classes to learn what that means, what the federal laws are, what the state laws are.

What's one tip you'd like everyone to know about buying a used car?

Frank: Cars are created equal, but they don't remain equal. An '03 Camry here and an '03 Camry somewhere else -- yes, they're both '03 and they may be the same model, but what you do to the car and the history of the car are two important factors. Always have your car checked out.

The Umpire

As part of his job, Dan Wilson has several thousand critics sitting behind him nearly every night of the week for six straight months. He's an umpire in the Atlantic League, a conference of eight minor league baseball teams spread along the Eastern Seaboard. When a player walks, the crowd cheers his good luck. When a player strikes out on a no-swing close call, the crowd boos and calls Wilson a bum.

Based in Kilgore, Tex., Wilson hops from hotel to hotel during the season, from Long Island to Waldorf, the home of the Southern Maryland Blue Crabs. The 40-year-old toured through Maryland three times this summer to call games for the league, and he provided us with a glimpse of the man behind the mask.

After 11 years of umpiring, do you still feel any pressure being surrounded by emotional fans who are perhaps intoxicated?

Major League umpires have more pressure because they got cameras on every angle, every play. Ours is a smaller scale. You've got four to six thousand fans that see a call differently. Sometimes they see it with their heart rather than their eyes.

What's the most intense fan reaction you've gotten?

I worked a year in Venezuela doing winter ball. It's a different culture down there. Every night there would be things thrown on the field. You'd need to watch out for what's coming from behind. I got pelted with coins and oranges and beer caps. They even threw fireworks.

You probably get managers and players giving you a hard time, too.

Absolutely, but it only appears to happen every night because that's all they focus on on ESPN and "SportsCenter." But you look at the grand scheme, it's rare. It's a working relationship like any other job. . . . You speak to who you're working with, and every now and then you have a little flare-up like any other job, and the next day you move and it's over and done with.

What's the best part of the job?

The travel part is the good and bad of it. You see parts of the country you wouldn't normally see, but then you're away from home for six months out of the year. Eating out every day. Rarely a home-cooked meal.

If you had a microphone and could address the stadium after they boo a good call, what would you say?

Part of it is they don't know the rules in some situations, and they think that every play that's called is a wide-open play. The tough plays are the ones we get crucified on. It's not as easy as we make it seem. Working the plate, you have about 300-plus decisions to make on balls and strikes each night. Some of them are pretty easy. But what we get paid to do is make borderline decisions.

The IRS Agent

Jennifer Abbott, 31, is an Inte rnal Revenue Service agent, a title that may only seem intimidating until you learn that, yes, in fact, she breaks into people's houses to eyeball their financial records. Well, not "breaks into." More like "calls up and politely inquires if she can stop by the house to chat about tax returns, thanks!"

Abbott majored in accounting at Marywood University in Scranton, Pa., worked for an insurance company, then moved to Washington seven years ago to work for the IRS. She lives in Alexandria and regularly volunteers at the library.

Were you mindful of the typical public perception of the IRS when you took the job?

No, actually that never crossed my mind. I saw it as a good opportunity, that it would probably be good to work for the federal government.

What's the best part of the job?

A revenue agent is like a field agent, so I go to the taxpayer's home or business. I travel to a lot of different places in the area and meet a lot of different people.

What's their reaction when you're like, "I'm from the IRS, and I'm coming into your home."

They want to know what they did wrong. The first question is "Why?" And they usually want to clear it up as soon as possible. I think after I meet with them for the first time, they're more at ease.

So they're not panicky?

I wouldn't say they're panicky. I've had people who've maybe had other things going on in their life that made them more upset when I was there.

What's the worst part of the job?

It's a lot of paperwork. The forms I have to fill out. There's a lot of things I have to write.

What's the general reaction when you tell people you work for the IRS?

"Oh, you know I'm not going to tell you my last name." They say it in a jokey manner. After that I usually just get a lot of tax questions.

I bet that gets tiresome.

I guess sometimes it can. . . . In the beginning I was a little reluctant to say I worked here, but I'm used to it now. People just make their joke and we move on from there.

Is there one thing you wish the public knew about the IRS or the job of an agent?

A lot of people might think it's me personally going out there and taking them on, when I just try to explain that Congress sets the laws and rules, and I'm just doing my job -- just like they're doing whatever job they have.

Any tax advice for people?

Be sure you k eep all your records. If you don't prepare your return -- if somebody else does -- make sure you still understand what's on your return. You are ultimately responsible for it.