With all due respect to honest work, the profession as a toll booth collector must clearly be the least glamorous and rewarding imaginable. Seriously, what are the requirements for this position? The ability to sit and count to 1 (coin or token or bill). Although there is some interaction with people, it would be completely wrong to label it as a customer service job. There is some money involved - otherwise the whole concept with a toll road would defeat the purpose - but the bookkeeping cannot possibly be more advanced than the simplest calculus. The advancement opportunities also appear very limited - possibly there might be chances to advance to a toll booth station supervisor (or whatever is the title for the person who is responsible for it).
Probably all these potentially negative thoughts occurred to the toll booth attendant at the very same time we pulled up with our rental car at the little station in the hills slightly north of Fuengirola. Our intent was to NOT get on the toll road, and instead on the public highway. Therefore we politely asked Juan or Carlos or Rafael or whatever was his name if we could possibly just make a turn without passing the gates. No such thing was possible. Instead, Juan or Carlos or Rafael or whatever his name was referred us to a little traffic circle about a hundred meters down the road where we could make a u-turn and go back.
As the option of backing up, making a turn, and very much illegally driving against the traffic until we could get back in the opposite direction appeared like a rather non-appealing option, we decided to scramble the €2 or so and give in to Juan or Carlos or Rafael or whatever his name was. So, pay, make a round in the traffic circle, and go back to exit for the highway took us no more than a minute.
However, upon returning to the booth again, it turned out that exiting would require another little deposit at the toll booth. As there was only one booth, one a window of each side to handle traffic in both ways, naturally we were faced with Juan or Carlos or Rafael or whatever his name was, for the second time in two minutes.
Thinking that logic would rule and that he would open the gate to let us out, we nodded at him expecting him to open the gate. We were sadly mistaken. If it was the result of a short-term memory equivalent to a shot of tequila, or a disgust for foreigners in rental cars, or bitterness over his sad situation we will never find out. In any event, our ticket to freedom in the form of the public highway would cost us another €2 with the only motivation “salida” - “exit”…For future reference: Check the road signs while you drive. If they say “toll road” - slam on the breaks or pay up…
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