A working life: The revenue protection officer

As Padra Martins explains, there's much more to being a ticket inspector on the rail network than just being able to catch out non-paying travellersIt's 10am and Padra Martins has already completed four train journeys in and out of King's Cross. I have merely endured one in the London rush hour crush and am exhausted, but Martin's diminutive frame ? energised, perhaps, by the two fare dodgers she has just fined ? is electrified."I get a bit of an adrenalin rush when I have to issue a penalty fare, I can't deny it," she confesses, "but I consider it a lucky day when I don't have to issue any. Yesterday, I only did one."Martins, 41, is one of those rare beings who is visibly in love with her job. It's not immediately obvious why. Her presence makes even blameless hearts sink. When she erupts into the silence of a rush-hour carriage the atmosphere instantly charges. Newspapers are reluctantly folded, iPads put aside and the ordinarily blank face of the London commuter turns anxious or pleading as they proffer their tickets in readiness."People are grumpiest in the mornings when they're rushing to get to work, and they don't want to have to rummage for their ticket, so I try to soften them up," she says. "I apologise for disturbing them and always say 'thank you' with a smile."Her days, when she's on the early rota, begin at 6am which means that her alarm is set for 4am, but she loves that, too. "I'm definitely a morning person." And, during the course of her seven-hour shift she has to face defiance, cunning and sometimes intimidation. Not even that fazes her. "Sometimes, if it's a very busy train, I get nervous because I might get a hard time, but I've always believed that there's nothing I can't do."Her sense of omnipotence won her the job of revenue protection officer (otherwise known as a ticket inspector) for First Capital Connect after a lengthy career journey in and around the railways. She applied three times for the post while managing a station snack outlet, working for First Capital customer services and leading an area team in "train presentation" (the latest term for on-board cleaning) and she eventually realised her ambition after a day-long selection process.Candidates are not simply interviewed; they are observed interacting and performing challenges to ensure that their personalities are right for the job. They need to be big on patience, friendly, adaptable and have a fondness for dawn wakenings. "They are trying to break the mould of the impassive inspector," says Martins. "They're bringing in more women, we're given behavioural training and taught conflict avoidance and one of my colleagues has learned sign language."After a month of training in ticket types (there are 20 different kinds in and out of London), the finer points of penalty fares, common and less-common dodges employed by those intent on a free journey and the psychology of confrontation, Martins was dispatched on to First Capital Connect services out of north London.She was once caught fare dodging after she failed to buy a ticket for her daughter, but since working in revenue protection she has felt compelled to tread the straight and narrow in all areas of daily life and the attitude of many of the public astonishes her."People don't regard it as stealing," she says. "When I try to explain why they must have a valid ticket other passengers always interfere and yet it's the fare-paying public who are being stolen from. The industry loses �400m a year and ticket prices have to reflect that."Martins and her colleagues divide their shifts between staffing station ticket barriers and patrolling trains as far as Welwyn Garden City and Stevenage, at which point inspectors from a different depot take over. It's the hours on board that she likes best ? "it's more like an adventure!" ? although she recoils when she learns that I commute along the stretch into Moorgate known as the Hertford loop."Jesus!" she says. "The passengers on that line just don't care. They walk away. The Finsbury Park to Moorgate stretch is the worst because people think, since it's on the loop, no one will be checking tickets."Despite heavy investment in new ticket barriers and an 11-strong fraud team which patrols trains in plain clothes, organised fraud is on the increase and, with a rise in fake tickets, it's becoming more sophisticated. First Capital Connect issued 6,061 penalty fares in the last four-week period for which figures have been collated, of which 470 went to appeal and only 99 were overturned.What is less clear is how many were cases of deliberate fare dodging and how many genuine misunderstandings. Martins starts to mention staff targets and the word is pounced upon by the company public relations official, who explains that there are no formal targets or incentives, but staff performance is monitored to check that the job is being done vigilantly. "Obviously, if someone worked a full week without issuing a penalty fare, eyebrows would be raised," she says.One aspect of the job that Martins prizes is that she is trusted to use her own discretion. "It's never pleasant slapping a penalty fare and often I do it very reluctantly or, if my sympathies are really roused, I'll just sell them a ticket," she says. "You learn to recognise whether someone is trying it on or not, although you have to be careful because if you let someone off it gets absorbed by the people around who might hold it against you if they ever get caught without a valid ticket."The �20 penalty is not enough to deter hardened fare dodgers who merely give false addresses and refuse to pay. "There's one guy who has nine outstanding penalty charges. I've lost count of how many times he's been caught, and the last time he was told he might go to prison. Another, who gets on at Hitchin, I've caught three times and then I found he has five unpaid charges."Most passengers pay up, however protestingly. A minority are apologetic. "One man paid a penalty without fuss after being late for his train and getting on without a ticket. And then he helped me with my bags when I got off so I felt awful!" A larger minority deploy aggression.When matters look poised to turn nasty, Martins has been trained to back off. "If you can't do it safely, don't do it at all," she says. "If they start raising their voice, I say, 'Thank you Sir, but it may not be me on duty tomorrow'."Occasionally, especially on late shifts, Martins' gender is held against her. "They'll say, 'You're just a girl; what are you going to do?' But I am adamant and I don't give up."Her strategy is kindly patience. When a defiant young woman, who has not swiped her season ticket, starts to rant, Martins hears her out politely then repeatedly explains her omission. "People want to make a point," she says. "They don't want to listen to you; you're the bad guy. We explain as many times as is necessary but we are told never to argue."This ability to listen can be unexpectedly disarming. "There was one lady who rushed on to a train without a ticket and I gave her a penalty fare and she ended up telling me her life story and we're now friends. She looks out for me whenever she comes through the station," says Martins. "Sometimes people just want someone to talk to and I have listening ears."As I trail Martins through the train on the dreaded Hertford loop, I am hopeful of high drama. She stops to question four different passengers and I am appalled by my excitement, but all four are let off with a warning because Martins decided that ignorance, rather than dishonesty, was to blame. She sees her role as an educator as much as an enforcer. "Some people are oblivious to the rules and by informing them I can stop them being the next up at a magistrates court."The job, she says, has made her more confident in herself and in her ability to deal with different personalities and scenarios. But her three years of experience have not inured her to every situation. "I did a night operation once and found that homeless people board the trains every night and travel to Peterborough and back because they've got nowhere else to sleep," she says."I had to get them off the train because they had no money to pay for a ticket, but it's times like that when you have to suppress your natural sympathies in order to do your job properly. It haunted me."OvertimePadra loves reading "I'll read any kind of fiction and am currently absorbed in a romance by Nora Roberts." Her husband is a chef, "but he's happy for me to take over the kitchen and I enjoy cooking African dishes." Padra's father taught her to knit "I find that therapeutic." One of Padra's other passions is dancing "Any kind of music gets me going but especially R&B and soul. With three children, I don't get the chance so often. I like to go clubbing and I have a cousin who organises electrifying African nights with music from the 80s."Curriculum vitaeSalary In the region of �19,000.Hours Five seven-hour shifts with 20 minutes' break.Work-Life Balance "I like early shifts best because I can be at the school gate for my three children, and late shifts allow me to drop them off. Sometimes I have to work weekends, but the railway is based on camaraderie ? there are so many mothers and sons and fathers and daughters working on it that it feels like a family. You get to know everyone."Best thing "Being where I can help and knowing that I am doing the right thing."Worst thing "The late night shifts when people have had too much to drink and tell you you should be at home."Work & careersRail transportRail travelAnna Timsguardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

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