My wife and I live in Edinburgh which means there’s a constant battle with the parking police, whom I’ve noticed are all growing little moustaches just under their noses… even the women.
To be fair, where our office is located there are a couple of side streets where the little Hitlers (sorry), parking wardens can’t issue their tickets because there ain’t any parking restrictions. However, I have to say they’re residential streets and, for us, that’s a bigger factor when considering where to park than anything a little dictator (sorry) parking warden could do.
On this particular day, though, we were late in and the only space available was outside someone’s house. We didn’t park over the drive or anything but the street is quite tight.
Anyway, we parked and didn’t think too much more of it.
I had to leave the office early on this day and my wife stayed on to finish up what she was doing. At about 7.30pm a man came into the office, looking a little bit aggressive, as though he was spoiling for an argument.
‘Is that your car outside my house?’ Says he, all angrily.
Well, he’s a bloody clever bloke, that’s all I can say. How he managed to deduce that the car with the same logo as we have on the outside of our office was ours I’ll never know.
Now, here comes the point of this blog. Normally my trouble and strife would have taken umbrage at the guy’s tone and said something like… ‘What of it, pal? If you’re complaining about the parking, tough titties, it’s on the road.’
Or words to that effect. Actually, I didn’t think my wife would ever say ‘tough titties’.
But we’re a business based right in the community so she didn’t. What she actually said was ‘yes, that’s right… I’m terribly sorry if it’s in your way. I’ll be just five minutes and then I’ll be along to move it.’ And then she smiled sweetly at him.
Utterly disarmed, (or possibly very frightened by the sweet smile) the man stammered something about just wanting to make sure that the car was going to moved by the morning (Saturday) because he had a delivery coming and he left on the best of terms.
My wife ruminated on this for a bit before calling me to tell me the story. Her conclusion was that she felt much better after the encounter because, although she’s the first to admit a good argument is most enjoyable, she wouldn’t have achieved anything this time and she actually felt better about the encounter.
So, to become a nicer person, get a car with your brand on it.