Dear “Sir”:
Look. I’ve been delivering to this particular housing development for well over a year now without a problem - the vast majority of the time, to the one customer I was headed to when you stopped me. Now, I get it. The parking spots under the awnings are assigned to particular residents.
To be fair, today was the first I have ever heard of it, ‘cause guess what’s not posted? Parking rules. Having parking spaces numbered doesn’t indicate much about if one should or should not park there.
Also, I suppose I could be like the vast majority of delivery people I’ve ever encountered, meaning fucks given to the parking spaces I’d just idle the car parallel to them instead, risking theft or the much more likely snarl of obstructing traffic flow, and then risking getting hit.
None of us want that, because if nothing else that blocks traffic for longer. Telling me the spots are owned - repeatedly, as if I somehow didn’t grok, acknowledged, and respond to the first several times you did so - isn’t gonna make the lesson stick any more than it did the first time, it’s just gonna upset me.
I get you’re grumpy - you pulled up to park at home, and some kid hauling pizza from her car was in your spot - which is often the one I park in, ‘cause it’s always fuckin’ empty. And upon you giving your first distressed objection, I immediately moved my damn car (to *LE GASP* a different spot under a different awning), before completing my delivery.
That glorious, regular venture usually takes no more than 5 minutes at the ludicrous MOST, and I am never once out of sight of my car.
Lecturing me again on my way back to my vehicle was overkill, and I still wonder about you starting with “Are you delivery?” No, I’m the goddamned tooth fairy. For future reference, if I’m giving that many “sirs”, to you, it’s several major red flags. Can’t imagine where I got that habit. >_>
Then, after taking my damn sweet time to text the mothership to declare the food safely delivered, I took a slow spin around the parking lot. No signs posted for parking restrictions. The spots available for visitor parking - also not indicated by “visitor” tags anywhere, like several OTHER delivery locations I can name, where hey, guess where I park? - are all at opposite ends from my particular destination.
So. No parking in that particular bay. Got it. And fuck you very much with a rusty spork, “sir”. Go join a home owner’s association and bitch at someone else.
no love and much distressed agitation, Me
