That’s Not The Ticket To A Resolution

(My former employer shares one very large parking lot with two other large stores. The borough owns the lot and does not want large vehicles like tractor trailers and motorhomes parking there overnight, so they have large yellow signs with black print and reflective edges at every entrance and exit, stating that these vehicles will be ticketed and possibly towed at the owner’s expense. There is a second sign below the first stating that there is a truck stop just down the road with a free shuttle service between the truck stop and our store. One summer day, I am working at the customer service desk alone when an irate driver comes up.)

Driver: *waves a small tan envelope in my face* “This is bulls***!” *opens the envelope, brandishing a parking ticket* “It says I can’t park my rig here? I always park at [Supercenter]!”

Me: “Some [Supercenter]s own the parking lots by their stores, but unfortunately, we do not. Our lot is owned by the borough—“

Driver: “I always park at [Supercenter]! I spend hundreds in your stores every week!”

Me: “I apologize, sir, but the borough does not allow large vehicles to park in our lot. There is a truck stop about a mile down the road with a free shuttle service to our store.”

Driver: “How am I supposed to know I can’t park here?”

Me: “There are signs posted at every entrance and exit of the lot.”

Driver: “Every other [Supercenter] in the universe lets me do it!”

Me: *losing my patience* “As I said, sir, we do not own the parking lot. You’ll have to take it up with the local police. I can give you their number if you’d like.”

Driver: “Take it back.”

Me: “I can’t. You can contact the police department but—“

Driver: “No. You will take this back. I’m not paying this f****** ticket.”

Me: “[Supercenter] has nothing to do with the police department issuing parking tickets.”

Driver: “Well, you can go f*** yourself. I’m not paying.”

(The man ripped up the ticket and blew the shreds in my face before storming out. I swept up the pieces, put them in another envelope, and contacted a manager to ask what to do with the shreds; she took them and contacted the police, who sent over an officer to collect the pieces. The officer laughed when I told him the story, saying he was the one who’d issued the ticket. It was only $10.)