I am leaving my shift at a grocery store, apron on my arm, purse on the other shoulder, leg lifted to enter the driver’s side of my boyfriend’s truck. A customer approaches with a plastic bag in one hand and a pack of chicken thighs in the other.

She demands:

Customer: “Ma’am, smell this.”

I stare in shock for two seconds before saying:

Me: “No matter what is wrong with that chicken, you have to go into the store for a potential refund.”

And then I got into the truck and left, still in disbelief.

I’ve been teaching for a long time. A LONG time. Many of my students’ parents were my students, and in a couple of cases, grandparents. I have no tolerance for BS anymore.

The school provides buses for all students, even the ones who live in the house across the narrow road from the entrance to the school parking lot and on the adjacent property to the school, as every time the district has tried to cut courtesy bus service for students close enough to walk to school, the parents have been up in arms.

And still, the parking lot is full of parents dropping off their children every morning, with the official traffic study showing roughly half of the students being brought in by parents.

It is routine for parents to drive at highway speeds, the fastest clocked this year is 50mph, and to go around vehicles trying to park, in the parking lot, at a school. Often passing on both sides.

Last week, I had a parent in a Maserati (a not uncommon personal vehicle here) pass between me and the stall I was turning into, while signalling, to do a bootlegger turn rather than drive the additional few feet to the turn around. Again, not uncommon. The parking lot is painted with tire scars.

I stopped.

He was blocked.

I got out, went to his window, and told him that I was happy that he found a car that properly compensated for the size of his genitalia, but given that it is a school, not a Formula One course, he should drive appropriately. I can say these things. I’m old, and I’m retiring. His response is unprintable and may constitute a criminal threat, but it proceeded no further at that point.

It took less than an hour, though. I was called by the Assistant Principal to explain why I was being disrespectful. I told her to look at the video; it’s the 2020’s, and there are cameras everywhere.

I have heard no more about it. No follow-up, apology, anything. But I expect no less. Or more.

About ten or so years ago, I went to a concert an hour away from me in Indianapolis. I decided to make a day of it, going to several museums and spots around the city. Each time I paid for parking in a garage for two or so hours before going to meander around the area.

Finally, I went to park close to the venue and paid for parking until the time it was free. In total, I probably paid $40-50 for parking throughout the day. I enjoyed the concert, but came back to a parking ticket on my car.

I think, “this is odd,” but I am tired and chalk it up to a mistake. I decided to take photos of my parking spot (both spots on either side were taken) and all the signage and head home for the evening, figuring I would sort it in the morning.

The next morning, I review the ticket, the photo of my spot, and my parking receipt.

The ticket did not line up with the spot my car was located in, and my receipt shows that I had valid parking at the time of the ticket. So, I submit an appeal, thinking this will be easy; it’s obvious that a mistake was made.

The appeal was denied.

The ticket was for the spot that was not paid for, ergo, it stood. I called the office, and the lady said they did not make a mistake as my receipt showed that I paid for spot X-1, and the ticket was for spot X.

I ask about the photo proof that my car was in spot X-1. She said, “Well, you could have moved the car”.

Note that the parking receipt included my license plate number and everything (think ParkMobile-like system). I noted that there were cars in spots on either side of me and that the entire street was full because of the concert.

Honestly, I don’t think they bothered to look at the photo. Even had that not been the case, I had proof that that license plate had a paid parking spot. No matter what, no dice.

I am feeling petty over this $25 parking ticket at this point. So, I called Visa and asked if I could retract the amount I paid for the time that I had parked, since it didn’t count.

I submitted all the evidence and documentation to Visa. Visa, in what was the greatest thing Visa has ever done in my opinion, they agreed that if my parking receipt and transaction number weren’t proof I had paid for parking, then clearly, I had paid for a service I did not receive. And they extended my initial request of cancelling the one transaction to include all the parking spots I had paid for through the system that day, valued at more than the parking ticket. Then they filed a formal complaint on my behalf with a letter explaining why they were refunding me.

I would not have been nearly as satisfied if I had not spent the entire day playing tourist in the city and racking up a large parking bill, all with the same vendor.

I’m with my boss and several coworkers on a business trip. We’re staying at a hotel within walking distance of the venue. On the second night of the trip, my boss decides to take two other colleagues and me to dinner.

After changing in our rooms, we get in his car and get ready to drive to the restaurant. There’s a gate leading outside of the parking lot, and you have to scan your hotel parking pass to get in and out. 

I’m in the back seat, but I see my boss reach out and scan something onto the reader.

Machine: “Please pay $80.”

Boss: “What?!” *Scans it again.*

Machine: “Please pay $80.”

Boss: “What the h***?! I’m a guest here. I shouldn’t have to pay for this!”

My boss presses the button on the intercom and calls the front desk. My colleague in the passenger seat is trying not to laugh.

Front Desk: “Hello, [Hotel Name]. How can I help you?”

Boss: “Yeah. My name is [Boss]. I’m a guest at the hotel, and I’m trying to drive out for the evening, and it’s saying I need to pay $80 at the gate.”

Front Desk: “When you checked in, you should’ve received a parking pass to get on and off the property.”

Boss: *Searching his pockets.* “I… don’t think I ever received that.”

Front Desk: “Umm… you would have to come inside the building to get that.”

Boss: “I’m at the gate, and there are people behind me. I can’t get back to the lobby right now.”

Front Desk: *Pause.* “I’ve just called Bellman, but I have no idea where he is. As I said, the only other option is for you to come to the front desk.”

Boss: “Alright…”

My boss looks frustrated as my colleague next to me gets out of the car and walks to the car behind us.

Colleague #2: “Excuse me?”

Driver: “Yeah?”

Colleague #2: “We’re having some issues opening the gate. Do you mind backing up so we can get out?”

Driver: *Confused.* “Uh… sure?”

My colleague begins directing traffic as the now-confused driver begins reversing. He backs up until there’s enough space for my boss to do a K-turn. My other colleague waves to the other driver and gets back in the car.

He drives back to the lobby and walks inside. I don’t see or hear the exchange, but he comes back after several minutes. He drives back to the gate, and this time, it opens without any issues. 

In total, it took us about thirty minutes to leave the parking lot… just to drive a few miles up the road.

I was with a friend of mine in his car. He pulls into a space in the parking lot, and as we get out of the car, a woman pulls up and rolls her window down and states:

Driver: “Hey! I was going to park there!”

Friend: “I got here first, fair and square. Sorry.”

Driver: “Oh no, I have been driving around this lot looking for a spot and saw this one first. You are going to have to move your car.”

Friend: “Look, I was here first, I’m not moving my car. You are going to have to find somewhere else to park; stop being rude to people.”

Driver: “Excuuuuuse me? My husband is in the car!”

She was saying this like it was a threat, like she was going to get her husband to come and deal with us.

My friend walks up to her car window and yells in a very loud voice at her:

Friend: “WELL, MAYBE YOU OUGHT TO LET HIM DRIVE!”

I started laughing. HER HUSBAND started laughing. 

Outnumbered, she gave my friend the middle finger and drove away. We waited by his car for a few minutes to make sure there was no follow-up retribution, but we were safe.