Yesterday morning, I scraped ice from my car windscreen as I left for work.
Yesterday evening, as I walked back through the front door at 8pm, I heard the familiar tune of the ice cream van doing the rounds at our housing estate.
Fact.
I know that the long-suffering Luas drivers are seeking a pay hike at the moment, but I really feel as though we, the nation, should focus our attentions on drivers that are clearly way more in need of the few squid – the lonely ice cream van drivers.
Here are 5 reasons why we need to drop everything and possibly hold a referendum on this matter:
1. The Hours Are Unholy
I have heard the (creepy) call of the ice cream van both at 8.45am when I am trying to get my son to school, and 9.30pm when I am at the end of my tether trying to get the kid to bed. Ice cream van drivers’ working hours are clearly in breach of any employee rights in Ireland and must be standardised.
2. 99s Are In, Whatever The Weather
The ice cream van doesn’t care if the Apocalypse has quite suddenly descended on your happy family scene at the beach. As you scramble with deck chairs, buckets and spades before the heavens open and try to ignore the fact that the back of the car now resembles a sand dune, you can be sure of the arrival of Mr. Ice Cream. The kids will scream and shout to get back out of the car and get 99s in the pissing rain and you will be demented. The ice cream van driver doesn’t notice though, he’s dedicated beyond reason. Literally.
3. Seasonal, My (Flake-filled) Arse
There was an ice cream van on our street on Christmas week, I kid you not. There was also an ice cream van present before, during and after every storm in January. Surely this must ring alarm bells for our fellow citizens who are tasked with delivering melty ice cream cones to the masses. Are they desperate? Is the sticky red sauce about to go off? WHY ARE THEY SELLING ICE CREAM IN THE DEPTHS OF WINTER FFS?
4. The Profit Margins Are Screwed (Ball)
If one medium-sized ice cream costs €2.00 and a tank of petrol costs €75 approximately, then that ice cream driver has to sell 37 ice creams before he clears some sort of a profit (can I just stress, in the interest of clarity, that I am not a financial expert). There are about 10 kids on our street who line up for ice creams at any given time, so it takes just under 4 stops on average before he starts to make a few quid. And there are about four stops in our housing estate alone. Wait, so that by lunchtime, he should have well cleared the cost of petrol, hundreds and thousands and ice cream overheads. No wonder he’s still out at 8pm, he’s making a fortune! *runs off to purchase ice cream truck immediately*
5. It Is A High Risk(y-Biscuit) Job
Imagine the mental anguish that those drivers have to endure on a day-to-day basis? Waiting while Little Johnny counts out his 5 cent coins to see if he has enough for a Tangle Twister, nodding silently as mothers berate them for parking right outside their homes at tea time, and let’s not forget, listening to the tinny sounds of whatever ‘Come hither, children’ they have chosen as their signature song. They should literally be knighted.
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