( To set the scene: I drive a generic white work van with a trailer load of materials meaning it’s not the smallest vehicle in the world and can’t be left in the middle of the road. It is parked in a parking area that fronts several rental trailers in a group. Our guest of honor is a tenant in one of those units. Let’s call him Stone Cold Steve Autism after his wishful resemblance to a former wrestling star.)
Fast forward to about 5:15 when Stone Cold Steve Autism (complete with bullet head, beer muscles and overall cranky attitude) gets off work and is greatly offended that I do not magically know he wants to park in HIS (unreserved) spot in front of HIS unit.
So as we’re packing up I look outside and see this skin-headed asshat struttin’ around and striking a cocky pose behind his truck all while foaming at the mouth and yelling at anyone he sees about “his” space being blocked. Fantastic… just wonderful. Ok, we’re packing up anyhow so I’ll drag some tools out and move the van… right?
By the time I got out of the unit and down to the parking area this bonehead had backed his shiny pick-up truck behind my trailer, hooked a tow chain to his hitch and as I stepped outside yelled that if “I didn’t move it then he would!”
How hard is it to say “Hey bubba! You’re in my favorite spot – can ya move please?” – “Sure! No problem! Sorry!” Instead ol’ Stone Cold Steve Autism is having apoplectic seizures while yelling he’d already told me not to park there yesterday
Um, no… No you didn’t. We’ve never met.
He went on hollering that if I didn’t move my van and trailer NOW then HE WOULD! He then told me he was going to:
- Hook his chain up and pull my van & trailer out himself.
- Call the police.
- Call the trailer park owner.
The first thing that goes through my mind is “Great. A pissed off drunk who’s mad at the world. The kind of idiot that gets mad when he opens that first bottle at 5AM and shit goes downhill from there.” Even better… ol’ Stone Cold Steve Autism here believes I’m the only thing standing between him and his favorite three letters of the alphabet: BEER. (Yes, I know beer has four letters but I didn’t want him to hurt himself thinking about that second ‘e’.)
Ok, fine. I get it. He’s pissed off and wants me to move… but with all the “I’m a baddass and you’re in MY spot!” bullshit he’s not in any mood to GET OUT OF THE F*CKING WAY so I can move… BUT! since he did try to threaten us with a few ideas of his own I told him I’d save him the trouble then immediately called both the park owner and the police myself.
You could hear the gears grinding as he processed that and realized that the idiot routine just earned him one – maybe two, things. (In addition to that prized parking spot!)
First prize was a chat with the police. Check that off his wish list! Just like Dominos – they do deliver! The officer let me know that this wasn’t their first visit there and I got the impression that they figured on more festivities in the near future…
Second prize came when the landlord returned my call & let me know that it would be the LAST time he did that crap.
What the hell is wrong with people? I’d never set eyes on this numbskull before that Tuesday so I can only surmise that on the previous Monday he had given the carpet installers (for the neighboring unit where I was working) a ration of sh*t & assumed that if he yelled at one person with a white van and tells THOSE GUYS something then automagically EVERYONE with a white van will also know what he said.
(Originally posted June 23, 2015 on FaceBook.)