The Key To Decent Parking

| Friendly | November 17, 2016

(Shopping with young children can be challenging; just getting in and out of a car can be a massive pain. Even if there is enough space, having to watch a child next to a busy road whilst trying to struggle with a car seat is a serious issue. Thankfully, this time there is a parent and child bay. I have my eldest next to me whilst I have plenty of room to unbuckle and negotiate the seat out of the car. Just as I get the both sorted a two seater convertible pulls in to the parent bay next to me, and two middle-aged woman get out.)

Me: “What do you think you are playing at?”

Woman: “What?”

Me: “We need these spaces! There are loads more. Go park somewhere else.”

Woman: “F*** off. I’ll park where I want. I don’t want my car dinged.”

Me: “Yeah, it is a nice car. It certainly would be a shame if someone scratched it. Wouldn’t it?”

Woman: “What are you saying?”

Me: “Me? Nothing. But I know a lot of people are sick of people like you.”

Woman: “You wouldn’t dare!”

Me: “Me? I don’t know what you mean. But to be on the safe side, why don’t you move your car?”

(They did! Of course I would never do something like that, but hopefully someone learned their lesson.)

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No Such Thing As Gardening Leave

| Right | November 12, 2016

(It’s 11 pm and the store closed at 9. I’m in my car, in the back of the parking lot, on my lunch, taking a nap. I’m not wearing my employee vest or my name tag. Someone knocks on my car window, waking me up.)

Customer: “I can’t get into the garden department!”

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Fulfilling Your Marching Orders

| Working | October 23, 2016

(My coworker and I are setting up cones in a parking lot.)

Me: “How far does this one need to be?”

Coworker: “60 feet.”

Me: “Got it!” *carefully lines up, and then marches exactly 60 feet before setting the cone down*

Coworker: “We need to measure that! It has to be exactly 60 feet.”

Me: “It is. But I’ll help you measure if you want.”

Coworker: *takes out his tape measure and, with me holding the starting end, checks the distance*

Me: “How much was I off?”

Coworker: *mutters something, then laughs* “Less than an inch.”

Me: “Never again are you allowed to mock marching band. It’s been more than a decade since I graduated, and I can still march a perfect 8 to 5.”

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Should Have Met Them In The Middle

| Friendly | June 30, 2016

(I’m driving through a car park for a group of shops that is terribly cramped, curving, and has awful visibility. As I drive through, a tiny red car reverses out from the other side of a huge van, and hits my car in the rear side door. I park in the next available park and walk over to the red car. The driver is a woman in her 30s and looks pretty shaken. I had my first ever “reverse into someone” accident a few months prior, since I’m only 18 in this, so I’m pretty sympathetic.)

Me: “Hey, are you all right?”

Woman: “How ****ing fast were you going? This is a ****ing carpark, not a ****ing main road!”

(At this point I sense there’ll be some trouble, so I take out my phone and take photos of the dent on her bumper, and the dent on my car, which has a large scrape of red paint on it.)

Woman: “Seriously, do you even f***ing know how to drive?”

(Since I can’t remember what details I need from her, I decide to ask for her contact details.)

Me: “Can I have your name and phone number?”

Woman: “Why the f*** do you want that?”

Me: “For insurance.”

Woman: “I want yours first. What’s your number?”

Me: *tells her my phone number* “And what’s yours?”

Woman: “No, I’m going to call you. Take out your phone. Take out your f***ing phone from your car and—“

Me: “I’m holding it… in my hand…”

(She proceeds to ring my phone, and I save her number and name. I can only assume she thought I was giving her a fake number for some reason. Afterwards, I go home and call my parents. They tell me to ask her for her insurance company and address.)

Me: *in a text* “Hi, could I grab the details of your insurance company and your address please?”

Woman: *texting me back* “I’ll meet u at the police station at 4 pm.”

Me: *in text, after asking my mum what to say* “Unfortunately I am now too far away to make it to the station at that time.”

(She then calls me, with both her and her husband on the line.)

Husband: “I hear you were going too fast in the car park, hey?”

Me: “No, I wasn’t doing more than 20km/h. Your wife was parked behind a large van, and visibility in that car park is shocking. It happens. I just need your insurance details.”

Husband: “But you were going too fast.”

Me: “It doesn’t matter who was going too fast; that’s for the insurance companies to care about. Your wife didn’t see me. It’s fine.”

Wife: “But you were in the middle of the road.”

Husband: “Oh, you were driving on the wrong side of the road?”

Me: “I was driving in the middle of the car park’s lane, so I could see on both sides. That probably didn’t help your wife see me.”

Husband: “But were you on the right, or the wrong side of the road?”

Me: “I was in the middle.”

Husband: “So you were on the wrong side?”

Me: “I was in the middle.”

Husband: “Well—“

Me: “Look, I just need your insurance company and your address. It’s what my parents are telling me to get.”

Wife: “We’ll meet you at the police station.”

Me: “I can’t make it to the police station—“

Wife: “Well, that’s too bad, isn’t it?”

Me: “Look, I’ll get my mum to call you, okay?”

(I proceed to do that. My mum is pretty renowned for her arguing ability. Ten minutes later she texts me back.)

Mum: “Got their details. What a bunch of f***ers.”

(We examine the dent later. It’s not big, and hasn’t damaged anything other than the panel. But my car is pretty crappy – the front bumper is held on by zip ties – so we decide there’s no point fixing it. The next day, I get a call from mum.)

Mum: “So, they already tried to lodge a claim against you. But their insurance decided they were at fault, since they were, and I got a phone call today saying they’d pay us whatever the cost of fixing it was.”

Me: “I thought we weren’t fixing it?”

Mum: “Normally we wouldn’t, but that woman was a nightmare. So I’m booking you in with the panel beaters for some time next week!”

(It doesn’t pay to be rude!)

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Something In The Windy Air Today

| Friendly | June 29, 2016

(My elderly mother no longer drives, so it’s up to me to take her around when I can to get her errands done. I drive a small, two-door car with wide doors that swing out quite a ways. We also live in an area known for its high winds. We pull into a parking lot for a busy shopping center and after a few minutes of driving around, finds a spot near the storefront. As my mother opens the passenger side door, the wind grabs it out of her hand and bangs it into the car next to them. Unfortunately, the driver of that car is there to witness it and jumps out to confront my mother and I.)

Me: “I am so sorry! The wind took the door out of my mother’s hand.” *turns to mom* “Mom, you have to be more careful. These doors swing really really wide.”

Mom: “I know. I’m sorry. As she said, the wind took it out of my hand. Please, let me pay you for the damage.”

Woman: *to my mom* “No, no, sweetie. Don’t worry about it. You’re old. You didn’t know better.” *turns to me* “But you! You should have known better!”

Me: *completely shocked at the woman’s attitude* “Excuse me? I didn’t open the door. I wasn’t even on the side of the car!”

Woman: “You should have warned your mother about the wind and the doors opening so wide. How could you be so inconsiderate to your old mother and my poor car!”

Me: *starts to yell back, but stops and turns to my mother* “Come on, mom. Let’s go inside. It seems the crazies are high out there today.”

(The woman continued to yell at me as I crossed the parking lot and entered the store. I was sure the woman was going to call the cops but when I came out, the woman and her car was gone.)

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