Every night after work, I’d drag myself home, worn out and ready to collapse — only to find the same problem waiting for me. My parking spot, the one I paid for, was taken. Same silver SUV. Same spot. Same nerve.
At first, I tried to assume the best — maybe it was a simple mistake. So I left notes, each one a little clearer than the last.
“Reserved parking. Thanks for understanding.”
Then, “Please stop parking here.”
And eventually, “Last warning.”
Nothing changed.
When I went to management, they barely glanced up.
“We can’t tow unless it blocks the fire lane,” they said with a shrug.
So, while someone else enjoyed my reserved space, I spent a month parking two blocks away — walking home alone in the dark after long shifts.
Then one evening, I happened to come home early and finally saw her — a woman in her thirties, exhausted, balancing an infant as she lifted the baby out of the backseat.
When she noticed me, she rushed to say, “I’ll only be five minutes.”
I pointed at the number painted clearly on the curb. “That’s my spot.”
She sighed, “Please, I just need to get the baby upstairs. There’s no parking this late.”
I let her go that night. But the next night, she parked there again. And again after that.
So I tried something new. I printed a bright yellow note with a photo of her SUV and bold text:
“This vehicle keeps parking in a reserved space. Please be considerate — not entitled.”
Then I made copies and slipped one under every apartment door in the building.
The next day, when I came home, my spot was empty — but the hallways buzzed with whispers. People knew.
Later that week, I bumped into her in the hallway. She didn’t look at me, just muttered quietly, “You didn’t have to embarrass me.”
I replied, “You didn’t have to ignore me.”
From then on, she always parked across the street. We never spoke again — though she’d offer a small nod when we passed.
Do I feel bad? Maybe a little. But after a month of polite notes and being walked over, I think she finally understood something important: Kindness doesn’t mean silence — and respect shouldn’t need reminders.
