Don’t Cross The Crossing Guard

(I work as a crossing guard at a summer camp that has the parking lot and some of the camp on one side of a not-all-that-busy road and the rest of the camp on the other. Every day at around 10 am a group of 3- to 5-year-olds and three adults from a local day care comes and uses the pool for an hour. I stop traffic to cross them from the parking lot to the pool at 10 and again at 11 for them to go back. One day, after I’m done crossing them back, a minivan stops and the driver rolls down the window.)

Driver: “Excuse me!”

Me: “Yes? Can I help you?”

Driver: “You do this to me all the time!”

Me: “What?”

Driver: “Every time I come this way you always stop me!”

Me: “Well, I am the crossing guard—”

Driver: “Every f***ing time, you single me out and stop me for no reason.”

Me: “Did you not see the group of kids crossing the road to their bus?”

Driver: “I have friends in the [Town] police department! Stop me again and I’ll call them!”

Me: “Seeing as I’m protecting small children, and you’re trying to run them over, I’m pretty sure they’ll be on my side.”

(The driver rolled up the window and sped off. I never did hear from these so-called police friends.)