Saturday, May 11, 2013

Lessons You Learn

The overweight 60ish woman in spandex had  parked her car in the middle of the driveway between the two banks of storage units off Route 17 in Brunswick, Georgia and she had left the driver's side door wide open, preventing any other vehicle from accessing the facility. I pulled up behind her vehicle and patiently waited for a glimmer of self awareness as she scurried between her car and the locked storage unit and her cell phone. She was entirely unaware of anything or anyone, but her own situation. Like a squirrel in an oak grove. Odd.

She drove a late model, gray sedan with Texas plates and her hair was an alarming two tone combination, silver gray roots and an distinct, overripe eggplant purple color dye job on top. pulled up into a Pebble's Ponytail. You know, right straight off the top of her head like a palm tree.

After a few minutes, I pulled along the driver's side and rolled down my passenger side window.

"Hey, excuse me, but would you close your door so I can get by?" I yelled at the distracted woman.

"OH! OH! Yes, I will. I'm sorry, I didn't know I had left it open. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." she whined as she shuffled to the driver's side of the car to shut the door.

"No problem." I muttered as I squeezed past her car. " Stupid woman! Stupid Texan!" I railed as I parked the van. Who in hell did she think she was inconveniencing me like that. I felt strong, wronged and righteous.

Ah, the ugly ego reared it's grotesque head. At least now, I recognize it, and checked the mindless, self centered arrogance sooner, rather than later. Still, it troubles me that I must continue to fight this distasteful demon.

I unloaded my vehicle and secured my stuff in Mary Helen's storage unit. It took me about ten minutes and when I attempted to leave the facility, there she was again, standing in the middle of my exit lane. WTF!

She walked directly at me. "Do you know how to cut off a lock? I broke my key off in the lock. They told me it's going to cost $50 to cut it off. My husband just lost his job. We have to move back to Texas. I'm thinking about renting one of those Pod units. Do you know anything about Pod units. I see you are from Maine. That's a beautiful state."

"Have you been to Maine?" I asked as she took a breath. The question didn't slow her down one iota.

"Oh no, but that's what I hear. I have relatives in Cape Cod. My husband used to work for Jared's. It just broke off in the lock. I know it's the right lock. I was just here yesterday. Can you help me?"

This poor woman would have so benefited from a double dose of ritalin or xanax. ADD on crack.

I opened the hatch on the van and removed my tools. The woman called someone on her cell phone and was relaying a blow by blow of her ongoing ordeal. After five minutes, I had successfully pushed the broken key into the channel and, using a pair of pliers, forced the broken end of the key into the keyhole and turned the latch. The lock fell off the hasp into my hand.

I turned to face ADD Woman. Her eyes widened and I dropped the broken lock into her outstretched hand. "How did you do that? You saved me a lot of money. I'm going to go in and buy a new lock right now." She turned and bolted for the office. Looking over her shoulder she called "Thank you..."

Somehow my indignant, outrage, being inconvenienced  and put upon day had turned into a feel good, helping someone out, I'm the hero day.

 Guess which one felt better...

Lesson over.

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