Back in the late 80’s, I was working my first “real” job in a building that had its own parking lot. Because there were more employees than parking spots, new employees like me had to go on a waiting list. When someone who had a spot left the company, their spot became available, and the next person on the list was automatically assigned to it. That was the way it had always worked.
I made friends with one of my colleagues, “Sandy”, who, like me, was very new. In fact, she’d been hired only one week before me. That meant that she was one slot above me on the waiting list. When she eventually received a spot, it was a cause for celebration for both of us. She was happy for obvious reasons, and I was happy because I knew that the next available spot would be given to me.
One day, Sandy told me that she’d decided to quit. I was sad to lose her as a work friend, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that her parking spot would become mine. The day after she left, I parked in the spot and began my working day, not thinking anything of it…
…until I was called into my boss’s office and treated to five minutes’ worth of ranting.
Boss: “How dare you take that spot! It wasn’t yours!”
Me: *Upset and confused.* “But I was next in line!”
Boss: “That doesn’t matter! You don’t get a parking spot until you’re officially told that you’ve got one, understand? Now go move your car!”
I did so, practically in tears, not knowing what I’d done wrong. Everyone I knew who had a spot had immediately commandeered it without being “officially told”, so why had I been singled out for a tirade?
I found out why later that day. The company had hired a bigwig executive, and when that executive learned that he’d have to wait in line for a spot with the rest of us lowlifes, he kicked up a huge fuss until my boss promised him that he’d get the next available spot. When he’d arrived that morning and found my car, he’d screamed at my boss, who, of course, had screamed at me.
What’s that saying about a certain substance rolling downhill?
