It's a dangerous job, toll collector. Not only are we possible victims of jerks who attempt to run us over in order to avoid the two-dollar (my lot) or three-dollar (main lot) parking toll, but we're also subject to freak accidents.
In 2007, a fellow Parking Lot Nazi - let's call him Lou for the sole reason I can't remember his name - had the misfortune of dropping a heavy object on his foot while at a gym. That sealed his fate and pretty much promoted me to parking two. Lou, however, decided to go an file a lawsuit on the establishment. Whether or not he won is still unknown to me.
This year, my former partner, Marcus, called in saying he won't be coming into work again because of a cast on his arm. Details have been spared, but I'm sure it was another freak accident.
We're a small group of people who are constantly being harassed by the patrons of the baseball stadium. We are lectured because prices are too high and sometimes we have hagglers who want a better deal. One time, a man asked if I would park his car. We're toll collectors, not valet parking. Sometimes I wonder if the girls who have the misfortune of becoming Parking Lot Nazis are treated better than us guys. There are two who have joined the team recently. I want to ask, but I'm all the way over on parking three - apparently, it's called parking four now - so I'm completely set apart from them.
With the new members comes a new schedule. One that I only half like. Not only will I be taking tolls this week, I'll also be picking up tickets, a job that has more hours despite if it's a slow day. However, I'm also off three of the eight home games on this stand. That upsets me.
In 2007, a fellow Parking Lot Nazi - let's call him Lou for the sole reason I can't remember his name - had the misfortune of dropping a heavy object on his foot while at a gym. That sealed his fate and pretty much promoted me to parking two. Lou, however, decided to go an file a lawsuit on the establishment. Whether or not he won is still unknown to me.
This year, my former partner, Marcus, called in saying he won't be coming into work again because of a cast on his arm. Details have been spared, but I'm sure it was another freak accident.
We're a small group of people who are constantly being harassed by the patrons of the baseball stadium. We are lectured because prices are too high and sometimes we have hagglers who want a better deal. One time, a man asked if I would park his car. We're toll collectors, not valet parking. Sometimes I wonder if the girls who have the misfortune of becoming Parking Lot Nazis are treated better than us guys. There are two who have joined the team recently. I want to ask, but I'm all the way over on parking three - apparently, it's called parking four now - so I'm completely set apart from them.
With the new members comes a new schedule. One that I only half like. Not only will I be taking tolls this week, I'll also be picking up tickets, a job that has more hours despite if it's a slow day. However, I'm also off three of the eight home games on this stand. That upsets me.
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