If I am feeling really good, I don't use it. If it is icy and the lot is full, I use it. If it is super hot and my limited energy is waning I use it. If there is only one premium spot left, and I am doing OK, I don't use it. Like many of the choices life gives me, I use my best judgement, and that perspective is subject to change on any given day.
My youngest has moved into a new apartment complex that seems to have a lot of parking rules. Every car must have a pass prominently displayed on the front window. One pass per bedroom, so she has two, but cannot utilize it as a generic guest pass because each car has to be registered in the office. I am unsure if the handicap spots need a pass and a placard; I suppose I'll have her inquire. Perhaps this is another unexpected fallout of our population growth. Few can afford solo apartments so we are sharing space and squeezing in, hence a two bedroom place may have three or four occupants. Each with a car.
I noticed while hauling stuff up her stairs - 34 to be precise - that one of the occupants of her building has a placard and takes that primo state sanctioned spot, right in front, by the stairwell. Fair enough, he lives there. He also has a PT Cruiser, but I'll refrain from comment on that today. The other day we had a few items to carry up in the mid-afternoon heat wave. I could have snagged that parking spot, but instead I backed into an empty space next to the biggest truck in the lot. Backing in is my style. It is an old girl scout leader habit of quick escape if need be. It can also come in handy in case of fire. And I know about that.
I was probably in my daughter's apartment for about an hour before I decided that my responsibilities as a dog-sitter were being sloughed. Time to go. I used the back stairwell and as I came into the front of the building my car was not in the spot where I left it. The big truck was there. The PT Cruiser had arrived. But where was my car? It is an odd sinking feeling. Was it stolen? Did I have a major brain lapse and had parked it elsewhere. Then I saw the obscure but clearly visible sign. I had parked in a no-parking spot! Something about being reserved for a golf cart or cryptic number or some such thing. When I peered around the big truck that was still in it's spot, formerly adjacent to me, I saw the tow truck!
This was a surreal moment. I was being towed, just when my sense of dog responsibilty had kicked in. Had I left a few moments earlier, I would have avoided this turn of events. If I had stayed even one moment longer, I would have been towed. My car long gone, a big monetary penalty would ensue. Lots of aggravation and hassle. Now I pride myself on being a decent negotiator, but I also know that once you're hooked - you're hooked.
I approach the young(ish) driver and begin my plea bargaining. I start off by telling him that I know he's never to unhook a car once he's in the process, but wow!! I didn't see the sign. True. Not disobeying rules and looking for mercy. I really did not see it and neither did my daughter. Then I proceeded to tell him I have a handicap placard and should have just parked in that spot - PT Cruiser be damned! But I was trying to be nice - and THAT won't happen again. Then I told him my son was a cop in this town - again true - and that I am house sitting - again true - and that I really needed to get home and take care of the dog. TRUE, true, true.
To review here was my closing argument:
- I'm inattentive
- I'm handicapped
- I'm a Cop Mom
- I love dogs
Much to my surprise and delight, he began the process of unhooking my car. By this time my daughter was in the parking lot alongside me. I had called her in between those moments of when I thought my car had been stolen and seeing the tow truck. I hung up on her to fully concentrate on my begging and groveling. She missed the stellar negotiation tactics of her mother. No tears. No yelling. Just straight up heart-tugging. As he was in the process of releasing my passenger side front wheel lock, I went in my purse a found a $20 bill as a thank you to this 'kid'. So bribery was not my first tactic. But I thought a wee bit of a tip was in order to let this man know how much I appreciated his change of heart.
As the tow-truck pulled away I reflected on this odd occurrence. I had almost been towed. I had almost been incredibly inconvenienced. I had just saved a wad of money and a lot time. I hugged my daughter who was convinced bribery was my MO, and hopped in to take care of the pup. Not a phantom excuse. A real dog waiting for me to feed her and play ball and muster up a belly rub.
I had about a half an hour to continue my contemplations about the afternoon series of events on the drive to my son's house. How did I manage to convince this hard working guy to unhook me? Which one of my arguments touched him enough to have compassion for me this day? Was it that I was polite in my actions? Even though I was upset and a bit kerfuffled in the moment, I never raised my voice. Never cursed him out. Didn't tell him bad things about his mother and her choice of footwear. If I am nothing else I am a well-mannered diplomat.
Perhaps it was a wee bit of good karma coming my way. A cosmic payback for all nice things I try to do for other people. You know who you are, no boasting here. I may never know the reason, but I am eternally grateful for the outcome.
Time to Write,
Jane
1 comment:
Love this!!
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