A Tow-tal Gamble

The convenience store I work for is next to a large casino. By “next to,” I mean that we are in a corner of their parking lot. A lot of customers will park in spaces meant for us and go gamble for hours, so we put up signs warning them and begin having them towed off.

I am checking the outside trash cans when I see a large truck parked in a disabled spot against our building. The vehicle has no indication that it’s allowed to park there — no tags, no placard, nothing.

I check inside with our only customer at the moment, and she confirms it isn’t her vehicle. I call the casino and ask them to page the driver to come move their truck or it will be towed.

As I am outside again to finish checking the trash cans, an angry man storms up to me.

Driver: “What the f*** do you mean, I have to come move my truck?!”

Me: “Sir, not only are you not allowed to park in this area to visit the casino, but you’re parked in a disabled spot with no indication you’re allowed to.”

Driver: “Bulls***! It wasn’t marked when I parked there!”

He’s trying to intimidate me, but the manager tends to side with the workers in cases like this. As it’s all women on my shift, we have permission to “fight back” against abusive customers, as long as we’re not threatening them or physically touching them.

Me: “Yes, sir, you are completely correct. I violated the g**d*** laws of physics to lift your heavy-a** truck into the air and paint the universal ‘disabled’ sign underneath it. Move your truck out of this parking lot or it’s getting towed.”

He gets in his truck and moves it to the next spot to the right.

Driver: “There, you f****** w***e. Now I have another fifteen minutes!”

Me: “Dude, if you walk off, you’re getting towed.”

He flips me off and storms back to the casino. I call the tow truck, who arrives a half-hour later. He mills around for five or so minutes to get a drink and then leaves. Another forty-five minutes later, a security officer is taking his break in the store when the man barges in, furious.

Driver: “Where the h*** is my truck?!”

Me: “I dunno. Probably the impound lot by now. It’s, like, $400 to have it released. I went with the cheaper option for you. Hope you hit a jackpot.”

Driver: “You can’t f****** do that!”

Security: “Yes, she can.”

He took one look at security, sputtered, and ran out. I never saw him again.