and returned moments later with a white sheet of paper in his hand. He gave it to me and sat on the edge of the table.
“Fill out your name address and telephone number”.
I looked at the page on the table in front of me. At the top of the page it said ‘Company Name’ in brackets but there was no company name. Immediately underneath it said ‘application form’. I filled out my details in the space provided. Alan asked me what I was doing at the moment. I told him I was a barman.
“Have you ever worked as a courier before?” he asked.
“No, is that a problem?”
“How well do you know the city?”
“I can find my way around” I ventured.
“You need to get a Dublin Streetfinder” he said, “It's the bible”.
I glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Here” he handed me a copy of the Streetfinder which was beside his keyboard on the desk.
“An A-Z” I mumbled.
“Yeah you’ll need it” he warned “you can get one in Easons”. He pointed to the bottom of the form “Sign that at the bottom”.
As I finished off the application form Alan explained the basics of the job. Collect here, deliver there, head down, arse up, be a good boy and you’ll get good money.
“Can you start next week?”
I nodded.
“Come in at nine on Monday, Sean will be here, he's the Manager. He’ll give you a bag and radio” .He pointed to a line on the application for which stated ‘I confirm that where I am provided with a company jacket, bag and or/other item, I am liable to the company for such item to the full value thereof’.
“I need your RSI number”.
“I don't have it with me”.
“Bring it with you on Monday” he said as he took the form. He wrote on the bottom of the application form ‘Need RSI number’, “Don't forget it”.
“I won t”.
From that moment on I worked for Securicor. As I turned to leave I saw a large red and white sign that declared THE BASE CONTROLLERS DECISION IS FINAL.
“See you Monday” I said as I left.
Monday
The first week was a tough week. I was ropey on the bike and ropey is being kind. I’d dropped it twice. There was no major damage except to my nerves. I was having a nightmare of a time with addresses. I could see it on the Streetfinder but I was having great difficulty finding it on the bike. One particular delivery sticks in my mind. Alan handed me an envelope in the base, BOI for Clanwilliam Terrace.
Alan took the blue folder I was holding, the folder the manager had given to me minutes previously. He opened it up and pointed to the ‘Proof of delivery’ (P.O.D.) form inside.
“Fill in Bank of Ireland in this space and Clanwilliam Terrace in there. Get a signature in this space, make sure you can read it”.
Twenty minutes later I was sitting outside the RDS staring at the street finder map.
“Shit, shit, shit” I cursed. I didn’t want to call on the radio and say that I couldn’t find it. Alan saved me the trouble.
“28 Martin” the radio strapped to my right shoulder blared.
I fumbled with the radio. I couldn’t tell if I was pressing the transmit button properly because the handset was inside a bright blue waterproof holder made of thick plastic with Securicor written on it. It also made it virtually impossible to hear what was said.
“28 Martin” I shouted.
“Hold on 28” Alan's voice blared back at me “don't cut across me”. I didn’t know I had.
“You there 28?” he called thirty seconds later.
“Sorry I can't find it” I yelled over the din of the passing traffic.
“Keep your finger on the button ‘till you finish talking, where are you?”
“RDS”.
“You're too far, turn around, turn around, did you get that?”
“Yes, yes got that”.
“……...eed a signature, get a move on” I caught the end of what Alan was saying when I let go of the transmit button.
I took a final look at the map. I could see Clanwilliam Terrace clearly, I could see Hollis Street, it didn’t look far at all. There were only a few roads between them. I u-turned across the road and headed back the way I had come.
“Bring it back to the base, for fuck sake back to the base” Another twenty minutes had passed. Alan was past pissed and I was no closer to Clanwilliam Terrace. I rolled in five minutes later. Alan reached through the hatch and grabbed the letter.
“Here Christy” he called to one of the bikers in the room “take this straight there and get me a signature”.
Christy took the letter and left. I stood there facing the hatch for a few seconds. Alan was issuing instructions over the mike. I found an unoccupied chair and sat down. I waited to be called again.
Time passed and I improved.
Tony
I crossed City Bridge already twenty yards in front of the wall of traffic just released from the lights at the IFSC. I leaned into the corner accelerating along Sir Johns Rogerson’s Quay. The wide back wheel of my Honda NC30 stuck to the damp blacktop.
“28”.
I released my hand from the throttle and pressed the transmit button “Go ahead”.
“Tony’s down on Townsend Street, take what’s in his bag, do whatever’s on your way and drop the rest in here”.
“Where exactly?”
“At the lights”.
I hit the brakes hard and snaked the back of the bike sharp right into Windmill Lane. Right around the corner accelerating the whole way, immediately left, brake hard, watch the car, drop a gear, throttle through the space, knees in, elbows in, clear to the lights on Pearse Street, brake, drop a gear, do it again, watch the opposite lights, keep the bike rolling slowly forward, wait for them to go amber.
I knew Tony a bit better than most of the guys. He lived within walking distance of me. I’d
