Parking violations bring in big bucks for the city of Seattle

She wears a navy-blue uniform pressed to perfection; wrinkles have no business on this garment. Her waistband totes a handheld computer that can spit out a parking ticket in less than 60 seconds. Pink nail polish is the one splash of color Linda James has allowed herself today.

James is 60, a mother of three, and grandmother of six. As a parking-enforcement officer, she carries no weapon. But the sight of her makes grown men stutter and sweat.

Stares follow her on a gray summer morning as she moves through her daily rounds in Belltown, checking car windows for parking-meter receipts.

The violators are many. When they see her approach, they beg, cajole, argue. Anything to worm out of that $39 fine.

"I'm just doing my job," she tells people. "There's a number you can call to contest the citation."

Parking enforcement is the scourge of all dense urban areas. Last year, Seattle's parking-enforcement officers wrote up 508,675 tickets. That's about one a minute.

And it's about to get worse.

The city is pushing pay-to-park stations into neighborhoods, replacing spots that had been free. The number of paid spaces has increased from about 9,000 to about 13,500 in the last six years — a 50 percent jump.

To catch the violators who don't pay or go over the time limit, more enforcers like James are heading into the streets on foot, bicycles and three-wheeled carts.

It's all part of Seattle's larger plan to discourage driving. Land-use codes, for instance, no longer require parking for new buildings downtown or in transit-heavy areas such as the University District. New parking laws and stiffer penalties are supposed to make driving less attractive.

Nevertheless, car owners take their chances — and get nailed again and again. The city, in turn, rakes in the money — a total of $18.4 million last year. That's more than double the operating budget for parking enforcement.

The revenue stream has proved recession-proof. Fines are projected to bring in $21.5 million this year. And next year, nearly $23 million.

The reason, city planners say, is simple: Mass transit isn't considered convenient enough for most people. Driving gives more flexibility, so many are willing to fight it out for a parking spot or circle the block for the closest space.

James sees the strain of the parking crunch play out every day, up close. Parking is valuable — but everyone still wants it on the cheap or for free. So they take risks.

Either drivers choose not to pay, or they buy less time than they use. The gamble pays off if no ticket appears.

When they get caught, the excuses flow.

It's just after noon now, and James approaches a car with no parking receipt at Second Avenue and Bell Street. A well-dressed man runs out of Mama's Mexican Kitchen.

"Excuse me, that's my — " he says. James stands a little straighter. She tilts her head just so.

The man's voice drops several notches. His shoulders slump.

"I went to go in and get some food," he says quietly.

"You have to pay when you park your vehicle."

"I just, I just — "

She listens to all their stories. "Please," she was once told outside Harborview Medical Center. "I've just been diagnosed with cancer." (It worked that time, but James kicked herself later for possibly getting hosed.) Ignorance is another popular claim. "I had no idea," they say.

The man in front of Mama's tries to explain more, but it's no use. James tucks the $39 ticket under his windshield and keeps walking.

Ramping up revenue

Between 2005 and 2009, the number of tickets issued by Seattle parking enforcement jumped 23.5 percent. In that period, revenue from fines went up nearly $3.5 million.

That's in part because the Seattle Department of Transportation started replacing coin meters with more sophisticated pay stations in 2004. (Those fees generated $25.3 million for the city last year.)

The solar-powered machines marked the end of the feed-the-meter era. Officers could more easily monitor times on printed receipts. A maximum time limit of, say, two hours, meant cars had to move after that.

If drivers just stick another receipt on the window, they can still get dinged for overtime parking.

William Edwards, director of parking enforcement, said such restrictions are vital. Parking turnover is key to the city's economy, he said.

Otherwise, cars would camp out in crowded districts such as downtown and Capitol Hill for "hours on end." Businesses would feel the impact — and so would residents.

The pushback on drivers is about trying to shape a new transportation culture, city officials say.

'Paradigm has to shift'

"The paradigm has to shift at some point," said Bryan Stevens, spokesman for the Department of Planning and Development. "People will change their patterns as it becomes more difficult to drive and park. Then there's a tipping point as transportation becomes easier to (access)."

In the meantime, enforcement continues.

As many city departments face budget cuts, parking enforcement is expanding. About 20 new officers have been added since 2008.

A recent ad seeking four full-time officers attracted 700 applicants, Edwards said. Starting salary: around $46,000, plus benefits.

According to the job description, the right candidates are "positive and people-oriented." They must enjoy technology, working outside and maintain a "calm demeanor."

Especially when people lose it.

James has had vicious notes stuck on her cart. People sneer about her filling a parking-ticket quota (there isn't one), and hurl all kinds of insults. "Gestapo" is among the worst, she said.

"I'm sorry, but I don't consider myself a Nazi," she said. "We're just here to serve the public ... so why are you arbitrarily deciding the rules don't apply to you?"

Another man once snarled, "You must really enjoy doing this to people."

She kept her cool. But inside, she said, she was thinking, "Yes, I like my job and I want to do a good job. If you complied with the rules, you'd never meet me."

James came into the job a little naive. When she was hired in 2004, she figured she might not be able to keep the job.

"I thought, 'My god, how am I ever going to be able to write enough tickets to justify my existence?' "

Her perception changed after the first hour.

James has spent a lifetime in other fields.

She's worked in accounting, she's driven a bus. But parking enforcement is it for her. She plans to stay until she hits retirement age, and possibly beyond.

The duties include more than just writing tickets, she says.

She's called on to manage traffic during big events, and help out tourists looking for directions or anyone in trouble on the street.

Now it's 2 p.m. Time to chalk car tires. But today, the city-issued vehicle she's driving doesn't cooperate.

She guns the ignition once more. Then again.

Nothing.

She's stuck on the 2000 block of Second Avenue with a dead battery. If the people she'd ticketed could see her now?

"They'd laugh," she said. "They'd say, 'Oh, you deserve it.' But hey, it happens.

"There are plenty of people who aren't getting tickets now because Linda can't roll."

Sonia Krishnan: 206-515-5546 or skrishnan@seattletimes.com