Parking Drama

I have a parking spot. It’s mine. Mine, dammit! I inherited it when my old boss retired and although there was rumor that they would be reassigning it (there are a very limited # by the building and most of those are for people with MUCH higher rank than me, whether that’s military or GS rank), I have managed to retain my claws on it.

It’s clearly marked “RESERVED FOR FSTB” so when I come to work, asI did yesterday, and there’s someone in my space…. Stand by.

I parked behind him and went to my office. Then I made a little sign that said:

“If you want me to move, come find me. – Capt Grose, FSTB.”

I showed this to a contractor who was laughing and he pointed out that I should at least put my phone number. My response:

“I will, in about an hour.”

I figure he can try to find me like I tried to find him.

When I went out to put this on his truck, he was standing between my car and his truck.

“This you?” I asked.

“Uh, yessir, sorry, I…was…had to run in and find this machine…”

I assume he was the copier repairman or something. I just turned around and walked off with a scowl. What he didn’t know is that I didn’t have my keys on me and had to go back to my desk to get them.

When I came back, he was on his cell. I should have waited longer.

He moved, I parked, and that was that.