Like many people, my experience of traffic wardens has always been negative - whether it's seeing a doomed neon yellow ticket on my windscreen or eyeing up someone in uniform patrolling my street. I know that sinking feeling of getting hit with a parking fine all too well.
But what does it feel like to be the one in power, igniting fear in the general public and issuing charges with the flick of a handheld electronic computer? I got to tag along with Darren Best, a civil enforcement officer (that's his official title) from Bristol City Council, to find out.
Driving to meet Darren in a Bedminster car park on a weekday morning, I feel extra paranoid about parking in the right place at the right time - today is not the day to get a ticket.
The sight of Darren casually leaning on his car certainly isn't a spine-shivering one. He looks friendly and approachable and has a great big smile on his face.
"I didn't bring you uniform because I didn't want you to experience any abuse," he tells me - which instantly gives me slight reason to panic. Is it going to be that bad?
"I've been doing this job for nearly 23 years and most of the time, I have no problems with the public, but there are rare occasions that people will shout, swear or push you," he explains.
Darren supervises a team of nine civil enforcement officers in the south of Bristol - and after two decades of five eight-hour shifts a week, I trust his judgement.
Talking me through his gadgets, Darren shows me his touchscreen device, portable printer and a hidden button around his neck.
"It's a recording device, so if someone comes up to me and starts shouting, I can press it and it'll record everything they're saying," he says.
We do a quick recce of the local area on foot and wait for 9am to come - the time that Southville residential parking rules kick in.
But Darren says we won't be issuing any tickets until 9:10am, to give locals a chance to move their cars - pretty reasonable, I think.
"My job isn't to annoy people - it's to make sure everyone abides by the same rules," he explains. "We help to maintain the flow of traffic so bins can be emptied and emergency services can get from A to B.
"If we weren't around, it would just be a massive car park. People see us working and it jogs their memory to move their car or pay for their parking."
Darren teaches me how to use the device to search for vehicle registrations, and at 9:17am I think I've found my first victim - their permit ran out four days prior.
"We give them two weeks grace period to get it sorted, so you can't issue that one," Darren explains.
Then we come across a white van that hasn't paid for parking and log it on the system - but we've got to wait by the vehicle for five minutes "to be seen as fair".
It's a rule I've never heard nor noticed before, and I'm sure I'm not the only one.
With 38 seconds to spare, the driver runs up to us and asks if he's allowed to move his van, to which Darren responds: "Sure mate, you can."
I'm surprised by how relaxed and laidback Darren is, but he tells me that he doesn't get a kick out of it.
"There's no adrenaline rush or buzz. It doesn't make a difference to me if they move the car during those five minutes," he says.
And he doesn't feel any different if it's an expensive car - "Ferrari or Fiat, a car is a car," he says.
At 9:37am, I finally issue my first fine to a white Vauxhall for not purchasing a parking ticket and Darren takes a photo of the front, back, sides and dashboard as proof.
"We do give people leeway in certain circumstances, like vans unloading, but here we've waited for five minutes and nobody has turned up," Darren explains.
I've got to admit, it's not quite the thrill I was expecting. I feel on edge as we walk away from the car and I'm empathetic towards the driver who will return at some point.
By 10am, the roads calm down and we've issued another ticket; this time to a grey Volkswagen on North Street.
A few people walk past us and raise their eyebrows, but mostly we're ignored by the public - I'm thankful nobody has chased us with a wooden bat.
"A man protested his ticket once and pushed me to the floor. But you've just got to remember that it's not a personal attack on you, they're just venting their frustration," Darren tells me.
"The best option is always to turn around and walk away. Just say, 'I'm sorry sir that you feel that way, but I'm not going to talk to you if you're shouting'."
But it's not all negative feedback - sometimes Darren receives letters of thanks from neighbours and shop workers who are fed up of poor parking on their roads.
At midday, we sit outside Parsons with a warm sausage roll and takeaway coffee - but even then, we can't catch a proper break.
"You're not going to nick me, are you mate?" a Deliveroo driver checks with us, before jumping off his motorbike - "All good as long as you're quick," Darren replies.
I get the sense that a lot of people are nervous around Darren, and he says: "Nobody wants a parking ticket because it costs money - and there's not a lot of that going around at the minute."
He's noticed that people are being a lot more cautious in the cost of living crisis, but "you'll never stop illegal parking near shops".
As we head back out and continue checking registration plates, it feels very repetitive and I struggle to understand how Darren enjoys it - but it's the variety that's kept him in the job.
"I'm somewhere different every day, whether it be Knowle or Brislington, and each area comes with different challenges, so it doesn't get boring," he explains.
The average salary for a civil enforcement officer is around £23,000 in the UK, but that goes up when you get to supervisor level like Darren.
"I don't have set targets or get paid commission. I get paid the same wage at the end of the month, however many tickets I've printed," Darren says.
"We don't get anything extra for booking your car - that's a huge misconception and can be quite annoying.
"Though it's around because some private firms do have incentives, just not the council."
At 1:17pm, we have another five-minute wait next to a light green Vauxhall, but the drivers spots us and pays for the ticket in time.
"The same people will try their luck. They're creatures of habit," Darren says, waiting at another vehicle for a regular risk-taker to run towards us.
Near the end of our shift, we headed towards East Street, which Darren warned me is the worst for illegal parking in Bristol because it's recently become a pedestrian-only zone.
We come across a car that's parked haphazardly on a clear car-free road and a shop worker rushes out to grab our attention.
"This guy has been parked outside for days and the delivery drivers can't unload. It's not fair," she tells us, frustratingly.
I feel somewhat invested in this tiny problem and have a desire to stick a bright yellow ticket on the windscreen - I can tell Darren does too.
It's times like this, when the general public ask for his help, that Darren feels acknowledged and appreciated in his job.
"Sometimes people do deserve the fine," he tells me, and we watch the five-minute countdown with apprehension before going in for the kill.
Heading back to the car, I do feel as though we've done a good deed and I give the shop worker a victory thumbs up.
Having ticketed five vehicles in total - but let off almost a dozen - I have a newfound respect for Darren and his trade. He's there when you want him, and unfortunately, he's also there when you don't.
