I don’t know where on this planet I belong, but I feel a little more out of place every day. The other day, I went to pick up my grandson, Jeremy, from school. It was about 5:15 p.m. The elementary school gets out at 3:15 p.m., but Jeremy stays late for an after-school program. Usually, I pick him up closer to 5:00 p.m., but I was running a little late that day.
When I pulled onto the campus, no cars were in the parking lot. I pulled into the first front spot closest to the school’s entrance. I didn’t even turn the engine off. All my windows were down, and the radio was blasting as I jumped out to get him. The instructor called for him from the playground, and he came dashing. Sign-out took us a total of maybe a whole three minutes. When I went to leave, I was very surprised when we walked back to my car to find a large black SUV pulled up behind me – blocking me in my spot.
As we approached, the driver’s black-tinted window opened, and a young woman appeared behind the wheel. The closer we got to the vehicle, the more I could tell she did not look happy. I could feel the negative energy pouring out of her car, and it felt like she was aiming it all at me. I couldn’t understand why.
“Is that your car?” She asked in a very unfriendly tone.
“Yes, ma’am, it is. Is there something wrong?” I asked.
“Are you part of the Wilson family?” She questioned.
“No, ma’am, I am not,” I answered, wondering if she had confused me with someone else.
“No, you are not a Wilson!” she stated. “Do you know how I know you are not a Wilson? Because I am Mrs. Wilson, and you are NOT a relative!”
Still confused about the point she was trying to make, I walked closer to her vehicle to continue our conversation. In contrast, Jeremy walked off to wait in our car. Then, Mrs. Wilson shouted, “Can’t you read the sign?” while pointing to the sign posted in front of my parking space that said, “RESERVED FOR THE WILSON FAMILY ONLY!”
Suddenly this young woman started to lecture me, with her index finger waving around rapidly, about parking in her designated spot. A spot that she stressed was to be used by her and her family members only! “It’s OUR privilege to park in this spot for the entire school year! I won it! I made the highest bid at the PTO auction this year,” she proclaimed. “It’s my family’s space!”
I could tell by her behavior that she believed this parking spot granted her some kind of “demi-God status.” A prominence that gave her the right to reprimand total strangers in public. I was unaware that unintentionally parking in this prestigious lady’s space would cause such a commotion. I had no idea I could be court-martialed for parking in the wrong spot after hours at an elementary school, especially considering the parking lot was empty.
She could have easily parked anywhere else, but no. She wanted to make it crystal clear to me that I had no business being there. I probably could have gotten off easier from a police officer for parking in a handicapped spot. She even had to wait for me to pull out – barely moving enough to give me adequate space to back out before she pulled in and parked.
Ridiculous, right? Not nearly as absurd as what I found out later that evening. I shared my story with one of my neighbors whose children also attend the elementary school where Jeremy goes. Their family has been part of this school system for many years, and she is a long-term PTO mom. Thanks to her insight, I became privy to why Mrs. Wilson thinks she has the right to ban anyone near her parking space. It is because she donated over a thousand dollars to win that bid at this year’s “Beginning of the Year Auction.”
It seemed like an excessive amount of money to me for a “personal” parking space at your child’s elementary school, but I guess her time is worth a lot more than mine. The day I spend that kind of money just so I don’t have to wait in my child’s car riders’ line at school, it better come with a nanny to pick him up and drive him home.
In my day, if you lived far enough to ride a bus, you still had to walk a good while to the nearest designated bus stop. You could have also been like me and walked back and forth to school every day, whether it was sunny, snowy, rainy, or windy. Sure, someone might have dropped me off or picked me up on a rare occasion, but otherwise, l had to hike it. There were no car rider schedules, and parents didn’t wait in line around some loop to drop off or collect their children from school, more or less pay such an excessive amount of money so that they could brag about having special school parking privileges for the year.
I guess my family has always had more time to volunteer than money to waste. Priorities.
Laugh on. Peace out!
Lisa DeMarco is a columnist for Villages-News.com.
