Don't know what I'm talking about? Let me explain.
I've been dealing with some bastard who decided that he didn't like the parking spot he was assigned to at our apartment building – he much preferred mine. His vehicle was a hard-topped jeep-looking thing, with what I'm guessing is his employer's name emblazoned across the side.
I have nothing against welding businesses, or any business in this town that help keep this economy going, but I don't know that many of the young guys that these companies hire are cocky fuckwads who think they know everything and had their mommies wipe their asses until they were 18. I know this as my sister had to deal with them where she worked prior to my niece coming into the world.
I can kind of understand that since my car was with the mechanic for four days and my spot was empty during that time, it would seem like the space is open to anyone. Especially to someone who just moved in.
However, my car was only gone four days, not four weeks! When I come home, I expect my spot to be empty so I can park there!
The first day he was in my spot, I left a note on his windshield, as is customary. I was not rude, I didn't even swear! I said please and thank you. I figured that would be the end of it.
Oh no. He was there again on Tuesday. And parked about four feet back from the end of the space. Clearly, he needed more room to get out of the space in the morning, cuz some crazy bitch had parked behind him! What nerve!
Motherfucker.
A note was left then saying 'Dude, not cool.' I parked elsewhere that night, thinking that perhaps that was his little revenge, and once he'd had it, he's stop being a prick.
Nope.
Wednesday I went to the property manager, explaining the situation. Obviously I was in the right, and he shouldn't be allowed to get away with it. She gave me a note with the company letterhead, saying very politely that he was parked in the wrong spot and that he would be shown the correct spot if he didn't know where it was. Failure to comply would lead to the towing of his vehicle.
I figure, okay, he's gotta move now. Once again, when I arrived home that day, he's in my spot, so I leave the note, parked behind him (with more than enough room for him to move around me, I might add) and was looking forward to coming home Thursday and having my spot all to myself again.
I was just thrilled to see my spot was in fact empty when I got home! He finally listened, hooray!
Nada. I am just not that fucking lucky.
That night, he boxed me in. Parked behind me as close as he could fucking get without touching my car. I had plans that night, errands to run that involved me driving somewhere, god-fucking-damn-it!!! Now, I know he's just doing it out of spite.
I am just livid at this point. I'm so mad I'm actually shaking. I could barely sleep that night, I couldn't clam down.
The next morning, Friday, I go back to my property manager. The lady tells me, alright, he's had fair warning. If he's in my spot again, I'm to call the on-call maintenance line and they'll get him towed. It's on them at that point, not me.
I get home that night, and my space is empty. I've pretty much lost hope at that point, and proceed to check every ten minutes to see if he boxes me in again.
Guess what?!!? He totally did!!! Shocker.
So I called the maintenance line. They said someone would get back to me right away. My totally lacking any faith in humanity at this point, didn't figure that would happen. Besides, I had to go take photos of the Santa Claus parade, then go get drunk with friends. So I did. And they didn't, call me that is.
And when I stumbled home drunk around midnight, his jeep thing was still there. He's actually pretty lucky I didn't have any eggs in the house at the moment, 'cause believe me, I was sorely fucking tempted.
And now it's Saturday, having woken up after a horrific dream and slightly hungover. I go check outside one last time.
He's still fucking there.
I think I called the maintenance line about three times to try and light a fire under their asses. I'm actually crying at this point because I'm so fucking frustrated and tired that I don't know what to do anymore. I'm starting to think I'll have to have him towed at my own expense, which could lead to all sorts of problems for as long as he/she/they are here.
Around noon, after I'd calmed down some, I went to check one more time before calling the line again. To my shock and wonder, he wasn't parked behind me anymore.
He must have just gone to do Saturday errands or something – if I leave, he'll just take the spot again. Which depressed me even more. However, the kitties needed kitty litter, so I had to go.
Imagine my sheer fucking elation that when I got downstairs, the fucking bastard was actually parked in his own spot on the other side of the building.
It's a holy fucking miracle!!!
I don't actually know what made him finally go over there, but I like to think that a maintenance guy whet to his apartment to serve him with a towing notice, and that prompted him to get the fuck out of my spot.
I was so relieved, I almost started crying again.
I know this probably sounds ridiculous, but it was really starting to feel like harassment. I was so paranoid about it that I couldn't sleep at night. I suppose I could have found out which apartment was his, and gone and confronted him myself, but I didn't know if he was some psychopath who would have gone and smashed my windshield in or something.
I really hate feeling like a doormat.
Sigh.
But it's over now, although that won't stop me from being paranoid for the next few weeks, half expecting to turn the corner and see that fucking truck in my spot once again.
Sleeping With One Eye Open,
Ginger.
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