NOBODY Touches The Stop Sign!

I’m a woman in my thirties, and I’m a school crossing guard. You know the look: I have the bright yellow vest and a big, red sign. Even better, I won a matching yellow reflective hat when I embarrassed myself during my first training demo, thus I am all kitted out. So just remember that the key color here is yellow.

Recently, some big cellular company started installing fiber optics beneath the ground near our school, drilling and destroying the sidewalks. This is at some of the corners I am posted on, so I have to dance around cones and not fall into holes. Naturally, there are lots of reflective cones, blocked off areas, and most importantly, big dudes in ORANGE vests and hard hats. Anyway, it’s a hot mess. The kids are confused, the parents are irate, and I’m running my butt off, but we’re getting through it. The rush was hectic, but we’ve found our rhythm and the crowds start to thin.

Then, this lady parks in the bike lane and halfway into one of my crosswalks and right where the dudes are digging up the sidewalk — the worst place possible. Thinking she’s just a mom trying to pick up her kids — not the way to do it — I rush over, hoping my eyes look friendly because my smile is hidden behind my mask.

Me: “Afternoon, ma’am! I’m afraid I have to ask you—”

Lady: “You are seriously bad at your job!”

Me: *Stops short* “Um, come again, ma’am?”

Lady: “I’ve been watching you and you are doing it wrong! People could get hit because of you!”

I’m beginning to panic because I am very alert but maybe I’m off my game? I start reviewing the few minutes that just passed, wondering if I made any big mistakes. I’ve been covering my three corners fine, I let cars go fine, and I managed watching cars go into a turning lane that is now used for incoming traffic without anyone dying, but I’m not allowed to direct traffic, so I am thoroughly confused.

Me: “I’m so sorry, but could you elabor—”

Lady: “I don’t want excuses. I want you to do your job! You’re supposed to let a certain number of cars go at a time! And you’re not even trying to keep the kids off the road!”

Me: “Um…”

Then, I see my late stragglers approaching. I just want to ignore this lady who isn’t making any sense. So, I begin moving away so I can cross my kids. And this lady — this scrawny, beanpole of a lady — grabs my sign. Or, she TRIES to take it, but my sign is my baby. No one grabs my sign!

Me: “Whoa, ma’am!”

Lady: “I’ll direct traffic myself!”

I start to catch on.

Me: “Ma’am, please let go of my stop sign! I’m just trying to cross my kids. I am not part of the construction crew!”

Somehow, she hears that. She also hears my kids rushing over to ask if I’m okay, calling me by my surname. Even parents are starting to call over to me to see what was going on. The lady turns white and lets go of my sign.

Lady: “You… you work for the school?”

Me: *Clutching my sign* “Yes ma’am.”

Lady: “Oh, well… You shouldn’t wear the same vests!”

Again, I’m in yellow and the crew is in orange. I look at my vest, then at two workers, and then back at my vest. I am trying to be subtle. Five-year-olds, however, are NOT subtle, and one of my kindergarteners scoffs at this lady.

Kindergartener: “Uh, lady, she is in yellow. They in orange. Even I can tell ’em apart!”

I love this kid. The lady blinks once, just once, and then spins around and runs for her car. That’s it; she just runs from a sassy five-year-old. I wish I could have given this kid a hug.

I suppose this lady could’ve been colorblind, but she still shouldn’t have tried to take my sign!