I’ve been
struggling for the past two months to write a blog on expectations. I’ll finish that one sooner or later. In the meantime I was just handed a subject
for a blog last Friday. It was dressed
in a tuxedo, given a brand new haircut and freshly shaved. In short, it was quite the beautiful subject.
Team Mates
is in an industrial building. We are
located on an easy access road and have enjoyed our last 11 years, growing at a
fairly average but successful rate during that time. We are not a glamorous business. At present, we employ 22 wonderful people and
me.
A new
taproom moved next door to us a year ago Friday. They sell their own beer and have made quite
the hit in town. I met the owner early
on and he’s a great guy. The head brewer
also is a wonderful person and overall, I know they put a lot of effort into
their beer and promotions. This week,
they are celebrating their first anniversary.
They did a charity golf event today and have big plans for the whole
weekend. Great marketing is a good
thing.
The result
of this is that the parking lot around our complex started to fill up early on
Friday morning. We, as next door
neighbors, have three permanent signs that say “Team Mates Parking only from
8AM until 6 PM” in front of three spaces, right in front of our offices. These are reserved for customers who arrive
to pick up their goods each day, or come to consult on embroidery issues that
they have. While we aren’t retail, we do
have a fair number of visitors.
Friday was
quite the madhouse next door and as a result, all of the parking spaces near
the taproom were occupied. People
actually had to walk around the building to get to their watering hole of
choice.
This led to
people wanting to park in our three marked spots. Mostly, they arrived late in the afternoon, around
4:30 which is very near the end of our work day. I watched several start to pull into our
spots and then back right out. Finally,
one car pulled in, stayed for a moment, apparently reading the sign, and then
two younger people got out of the car and locked it. They looked at a couple of us in the office,
turned and walked to the taproom.
Okay, I’ll
admit. It made me angry to see someone
completely ignore the signs. I dashed
off a quick note, saying “Do you have trouble reading? Did you notice the people who were looking at
you from the office window in front of you?
The sign says “No Parking”.” I’ll
admit. My anger forced me to name
calling. I wrote “Ass hat” and put the
note on the guy’s windshield.
The couple
came out to their car about a half hour later.
I was getting ready to leave, went to check the shop area and finally
locked up and walked out. My truck was
parked next to their car. They waited
for me to finish closing up the shop.
“Did you
leave that note on my car?” asked the young male.
“I did,” I
replied.
“My daughter
was in that car and she could read it,” he said very angrily. The car doors were open at that point, so his
daughter could hear the conversation.
“Okay,” I
said. No, I’m not the best at
confrontation. I don’t think that
quickly and really didn’t want to see him start around the car as he did. “There is a sign that says that this is
reserved,” I said quietly as I put my bag into my truck.
He stopped
in front of his car. “It’s not my fault
that your business is so irrelevant that no cars are parked in front of it,” he
said, still angry.
I was
speechless, could do nothing more than put my workout bag into the truck. He was not done and I muttered “You don’t
want to fight.”
He wasn’t
done. “You don’t get to do that, you fat
fuck!” he shouted. Oh, the door was
still open and his daughter, who had been locked in the car while he was inside
the taproom, heard his tirade. His
girlfriend joined in and called me names as well. All I could do was mutter, “Wow, words hurt.” I should have been on my game. Ah, well.
He popped
into his car as I quietly put the rest of my gear away. Finally, he and his young girl friend got
into the car and pulled away.
For my part,
I guess I’m just slow. I really didn’t
see that one coming. I guess I’m
supposed to be hurt. Irrelevant? Do they teach those words still? Does he understand the meaning? And of course I’m overweight. I sit at a desk a lot, even though I work out
really hard twice a week, ride a horse, throw hay. I like those activities. Oh, last week when I turned 63, the 22 year
old who worked out with me was comatose when I went back to work. But yeah, I’m overweight.
I won’t
stereotype. They were young. I’m slow and not one for debates. I need to ask the obvious, though. “Did you know that it’s illegal to leave a
child locked and alone in a car?” or “If your daughter was able to read my
handwritten note, did she also read the sign that says No Parking? Maybe she could have helped you sound out
the words.” Sadly, I didn’t.
I am
shaken. Not by the words. They really don’t hurt at all. I am shaken because up to now, the young
people that I have known have been more respectful, less entitled and they
actually seemed to take responsibility for their actions.
Of course I
do have a closing lesson.
Mommies, pay
attention. Inform your children and
teach them to never, ever start a sentence with “It’s not my fault” no matter what
they are going to say. We old fat fucks
really don’t listen after we hear that phrase.