To the owner of the Scion at work. If I don't know you, I hate you. If I do know you, I don't hate you, but I am seriously perturbed by your actions, and you owe me some serious sucking up in the form of lots of beer or scotch before I'm willing to be friends with you again. Fortunately, I don't think I know anyone with a Scion, so we can assume I hate you with a relative level of purity.
I know it's cold outside. Very cold. It's Minnesota after all. And I know that we don't have a ramp for reasons only corporate and the City of Eagan really understand. That means if you get in late, you do indeed have to walk a considerable distance in subzero temperatures, or at least wait for the moderately heated corporate bus. That in no way excuses deciding that these factors absolve you when you stuff your Scion between my car and the big pickup that came after me and didn't bother to park in line with the car opposite. It makes you an even bigger ass when you leave yourself just enough room to squeeze out of your driver side door and put your passenger side door so close to my car that it's difficult to tell where your Scion ends and my SL2 begins. My six year old daughter wouldn't have fit in the crack available to me to enter my car (and my backpack didn't), although I suspect you could have fit another POS Scion in that limited space, or at least you would have tried had you arrived after the first Scion.
Fortunately, despite my advanced age, I'm still somewhat limber, I don't have to sit down to tie my shoes yet, and the guy on the other side of me, not to mention me, weren't such a*holes as to create a situation where I was parked in on both sides. I was able to unload my bags and crawl over the stick shift into my seat without breaking any brittle pieces on my car or myself. Do you know there are people who have worked at our company as long as I've been alive? I suspect they might not be so limber. But then, you probably knew it wasn't one of them. You seem so considerate. You were probably paying so much attention, rather than being self-involved and concerned with your own need for a hot cup of coffee at Caribou as soon as humanly possible.
Dick. It's apropos your car could be construed to mean son of a bitch or a graft jutting off the main trunk of human decency. Learn how to f*ing park and, more importantly, learn to be a considerate human being.
7 comments:
Did you get the license plate? Because this is what public records databases are for.
Not that I would ever even think of doing something like that.
Scared me for a minute. I drive a Scpeck. This person is probably married to the guy I always see in the store parking lots.. the one who parks their "wish I had me a semi" pickup in three spots to keep anyone from scratching his custome cherry asshole red paint job.
The next time I see a Scion, I'm ramming it!
I work on those databases, Larry. It's my job to ensure they're not abused, even during testing.
Sank...what the hell is a Scpeck (or Speck)?
Did the license plate start with NLJ? That's my brother's Scion. I accused him and he denies it.
Did you leave an appropriately worded hate note?
That wouldn't be very Minnesota Nice, She Says. And it was cold enough my pen probably didn't work anyway.
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