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So, on my rounds, I pass a lot at 505 E Big St. Parking is by permit only here, but I don’t even go in to check most of the time.
See, this lot is a tiny one, only maybe 11 spaces, so I know all the people who park there. Even more now since most rental properties in a college town run at lower capacity during the summer semesters, so only about 6 cars regularly use this lot and I know them all.
Therefore, just a glance over my shoulder while driving by is all that’s needed to “check” the lot.
Well, I slam the brakes because at the very end of the row, deep in the lot, is a Dodge Caravan I’ve never seen there before. I pull up behind it and shine my flashlight into the back window, looking for a permit. And I find one, or rather, an obvious phony permit. How obvious? Real permits here are printed, black ink on blue sticker, then stuck to the windows. This one? It was hand written, on a pieced of blue construction paper, with a magic marker, and whoever did it missed crossing one of the “T” ‘s and did not fully close their “0” ’s , then it was cut out so sloppily you could see scissor marks and then taped to the glass with masking tape, calling the attempt “pathetic” wouldn’t do justice to the word. So I start the hookup.
Despite it being 2am, no sooner do I get it lifted than a gaggle of 4 women storm out of the house and surround me. God, I hate the dreaded “Girl Posse”. It seems like whenever you get 3 or more of them together, this bizarre herd mentality forms, where an attack on one is an attack on ALL of them, and they all try talking (well, shouting) at you at once. Unfortunately, their collective listening abilities while stuck in “attack mode” decrease at a rate that I’m pretty sure is inversely proportional to how many there are. So, the more you have, the more they yell, and the less they listen. I liken it to loading a washing machine with a scrabble board, and then randomly opening the door and seeing what pops out. Most of it will be gibberish, you will get the occasional real word, but most of them time you’ll just be wasting precious energy for no intelligent gain.
The main thrust of their argument was that the “permit” in the car was valid, which of course was, ahem, a point of contention with me. Some highlights from the ensuing 30 minute debate included
-The permit was real (It laughably wasn’t. I should mention that an attempt to take its picture with a digital camera to document it’s alleged legitimacy was blocked)
-The landlord gave them that permit (If she did, it was a cruel joke, and Wendy doesn’t play cruel jokes. Oh, how odd, I know the landlord’s name, and you don’t seem to….)
-This is their assigned space (Untrue, there are no assigned spaces, it’s either permit or no permit)
-They’ve parked here for “years” and never had a problem! (First I’ve ever seen this car in 3 years on this job)
-They pay a lot of money to use that spot (May or may not be true. But like the price of Chinese tea, that has no bearing on the current situation)
-No one had warned them they’d be towed (Once again, people seem to fail to understand, unless I’ve met you once before, I can’t divine WHO you are or WHAT you look like or WHERE you live based on where I find your car parked. I couldn’t warn you even if I wanted to. The sign at the entrance to the lot that unauthorized vehicles will be towed is the only warning you’re gonna get.)
-Towing was a “racket” (Cliché, Personally, I believe you shouldn’t be able to invoke this term unless you’re dealing with a two-party dispute where one side is wearing suits and armed with Thompson Submachineguns)
-They were going to sue “the bejeezus” out of me. (The line of people who’ve threatened that is forming around the block)
-I had damaged their van by picking it up, and I was going to be liable for that, and all the stuff inside which was now similarly damaged. (To to even get into this parking lot, you have to drive up an incline which is steeper than the required lift to tow a car, which it hadn’t even reached yet. Total lift at the time was 5 inches. )
-I had to get my manager down there “right now”. (Talk to him in the morning, I’m not waking him at 2am)
-Since I had woken THEM at 2am, it was a fair request, get the manager now! (See above)
-I was again informed I was going to be sued. (There’s a level above “Bejeezus”?)
-Since I was going to be sued, I had to give them my full name, address, favorite kind of fish, etc (Not happening.)
-Threatened to call the cops since they had no way of knowing if I was” legitimate” since I would not produce company ID. (I can’t show you an “employee ID” I don’t have one, we aren’t issued one. The TRUCK with our company name and phone number on the side, and the company work shirt, with name and number on it, is ID enough for 99.9% of the populace. And I’m not showing you my driver’s license, the picture on it makes me look far too attractive, and I hate to brag.)
-Demand the cops (I gleefully call)
-Pull out a cellphone and call the cops as well, apparently believing I only pretended to call them (Now TWO cop cars show up)
You KNOW you have failed and failed hard at forging a parking pass when a cop takes one casual glance at it, and STARTS LAUGHING. Cop tells the ladies to pay up and move the car or it will be towed, and any issues with it will have to be solved during normal business hours.
I was told I most certainly haven’t heard the last of this as they moved into the street, $60 poorer from the drop. But I’m fairly certain I have. I neglected to tell them that the last time someone used a phony permit in that lot, and got caught, Wendy the manager hit them for theft of services charges, but agreed to drop them if they bought a legitimate permit from her. (and they did) So, good luck with that ladies!
See, this lot is a tiny one, only maybe 11 spaces, so I know all the people who park there. Even more now since most rental properties in a college town run at lower capacity during the summer semesters, so only about 6 cars regularly use this lot and I know them all.
Therefore, just a glance over my shoulder while driving by is all that’s needed to “check” the lot.
Well, I slam the brakes because at the very end of the row, deep in the lot, is a Dodge Caravan I’ve never seen there before. I pull up behind it and shine my flashlight into the back window, looking for a permit. And I find one, or rather, an obvious phony permit. How obvious? Real permits here are printed, black ink on blue sticker, then stuck to the windows. This one? It was hand written, on a pieced of blue construction paper, with a magic marker, and whoever did it missed crossing one of the “T” ‘s and did not fully close their “0” ’s , then it was cut out so sloppily you could see scissor marks and then taped to the glass with masking tape, calling the attempt “pathetic” wouldn’t do justice to the word. So I start the hookup.
Despite it being 2am, no sooner do I get it lifted than a gaggle of 4 women storm out of the house and surround me. God, I hate the dreaded “Girl Posse”. It seems like whenever you get 3 or more of them together, this bizarre herd mentality forms, where an attack on one is an attack on ALL of them, and they all try talking (well, shouting) at you at once. Unfortunately, their collective listening abilities while stuck in “attack mode” decrease at a rate that I’m pretty sure is inversely proportional to how many there are. So, the more you have, the more they yell, and the less they listen. I liken it to loading a washing machine with a scrabble board, and then randomly opening the door and seeing what pops out. Most of it will be gibberish, you will get the occasional real word, but most of them time you’ll just be wasting precious energy for no intelligent gain.
The main thrust of their argument was that the “permit” in the car was valid, which of course was, ahem, a point of contention with me. Some highlights from the ensuing 30 minute debate included
-The permit was real (It laughably wasn’t. I should mention that an attempt to take its picture with a digital camera to document it’s alleged legitimacy was blocked)
-The landlord gave them that permit (If she did, it was a cruel joke, and Wendy doesn’t play cruel jokes. Oh, how odd, I know the landlord’s name, and you don’t seem to….)
-This is their assigned space (Untrue, there are no assigned spaces, it’s either permit or no permit)
-They’ve parked here for “years” and never had a problem! (First I’ve ever seen this car in 3 years on this job)
-They pay a lot of money to use that spot (May or may not be true. But like the price of Chinese tea, that has no bearing on the current situation)
-No one had warned them they’d be towed (Once again, people seem to fail to understand, unless I’ve met you once before, I can’t divine WHO you are or WHAT you look like or WHERE you live based on where I find your car parked. I couldn’t warn you even if I wanted to. The sign at the entrance to the lot that unauthorized vehicles will be towed is the only warning you’re gonna get.)
-Towing was a “racket” (Cliché, Personally, I believe you shouldn’t be able to invoke this term unless you’re dealing with a two-party dispute where one side is wearing suits and armed with Thompson Submachineguns)
-They were going to sue “the bejeezus” out of me. (The line of people who’ve threatened that is forming around the block)
-I had damaged their van by picking it up, and I was going to be liable for that, and all the stuff inside which was now similarly damaged. (To to even get into this parking lot, you have to drive up an incline which is steeper than the required lift to tow a car, which it hadn’t even reached yet. Total lift at the time was 5 inches. )
-I had to get my manager down there “right now”. (Talk to him in the morning, I’m not waking him at 2am)
-Since I had woken THEM at 2am, it was a fair request, get the manager now! (See above)
-I was again informed I was going to be sued. (There’s a level above “Bejeezus”?)
-Since I was going to be sued, I had to give them my full name, address, favorite kind of fish, etc (Not happening.)
-Threatened to call the cops since they had no way of knowing if I was” legitimate” since I would not produce company ID. (I can’t show you an “employee ID” I don’t have one, we aren’t issued one. The TRUCK with our company name and phone number on the side, and the company work shirt, with name and number on it, is ID enough for 99.9% of the populace. And I’m not showing you my driver’s license, the picture on it makes me look far too attractive, and I hate to brag.)
-Demand the cops (I gleefully call)
-Pull out a cellphone and call the cops as well, apparently believing I only pretended to call them (Now TWO cop cars show up)
You KNOW you have failed and failed hard at forging a parking pass when a cop takes one casual glance at it, and STARTS LAUGHING. Cop tells the ladies to pay up and move the car or it will be towed, and any issues with it will have to be solved during normal business hours.
I was told I most certainly haven’t heard the last of this as they moved into the street, $60 poorer from the drop. But I’m fairly certain I have. I neglected to tell them that the last time someone used a phony permit in that lot, and got caught, Wendy the manager hit them for theft of services charges, but agreed to drop them if they bought a legitimate permit from her. (and they did) So, good luck with that ladies!
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