SAA Ep. #63: A Space for Every Car, and Every Car in its Space

A friend came up to me at church the other night and said, “Hey! I noticed you actually parked in a different parking space tonight. Good job!”

Now, granted, this friend of mine is a pretty odd character, but even with his peculiarities, I thought it strange to be praised for something as mundane as having parked in a different parking spot than usual.

Yeah, only I didn’t park in a different spot than usual. I found myself explaining to my odd friend that I have a usual “Sunday morning parking spot” and a usual “Sunday night parking spot.” I went on to give him such superfluous information as, “My Sunday night parking spot is also the parking spot I use on days when I teach at the church’s preschool program,” and “I park in a different spot on Sunday mornings because more people come, and I like to park further away so that families and old people can get better parking spaces,” and “Last Sunday night I parked in my Sunday morning spot because we were having a church meeting, and I thought more people would come to that, so I wanted to free up more good spaces.”

My friend, odd as he is, blinked at me. I think it was because I was the odder one in that particular situation. Tee hee! Odder sounds like otter! I like otters.

Ahem.

So, after leaving church, I had to go to Walmart for a few things. I also planned on getting gasoline at the Walmart gas station. So when I pulled into the Walmart parking lot, I pulled into my “I’m going to get gasoline after I shop” parking spot, as opposed to my “quickest way to get out of the parking lot” space. And I had the sudden realization that I have usual parking places almost everywhere I go. In fact, in most cases, I have two (or more) usual parking spaces.

I also drove to Target after getting gas at Walmart, and I pulled into my “I’m coming from this direction” parking space instead of my “I’m coming from this other direction” parking space.

After doing all my shopping, I drove back to my apartment, where I pulled into my “it looks and feels as though it might frost a little overnight, so I’ll try to position my car in a way that my tall apartment building doesn’t block the first warm rays of the slowly rising sun” space as opposed to my “I’m lazy and just want the space closest to my apartment door” space, and as opposed to my “I’m feeling generous and charitable to the neighbors that live in the apartment building next to mine and want to give them a closer parking space, even though they snub me and their yippy dog poops next to my porch” space, and as opposed to my “HOLY CRAP are ALL MY NEIGHBORS having a party at the SAME TIME? Why is the only space left the stinky one next to the dumpster that is hard to back out of on account of the aforementioned dumpster?” space.

I thought about it a little, and I also have multiple parking spaces at work. I either park in the “this is my space” parking space or the “OH NOES! Kara took my space so I’ll park in this other space” space.

Okay, I admit it. It’s a little quirky. I mean, growing up, my parents always just tried to get the parking space that was closest to whatever building we were trying to enter. I think most people live by that kind of logic. Most people base their parking spot decision on what will allow them quickest access to the building. This doesn’t require any strategy or planning. And why should it? It’s just something simple—parking a car.

Yeah, but I’m me. I make everything a little more complicated, a little more awkward, and a little more fun! My parking thought processes are a little different. Usually, I’m thinking, “What parking space will allow me easiest exit from the parking lot?” My way of thinking actually requires quite a bit of planning and strategy, which, yes, makes me odd.

And things are about to get otter odder.

Here’s how I go about selecting a good parking spot:

1) Ain’t Too Proud to Walk

When I go to Walmart or church (on a Sunday morning), I park pretty far away from the door. Do you know how long it takes me to cross the entire parking lot of my church? About 20 seconds. Do you know how long it takes me to cross the entire parking lot of Walmart? Probably about 45 seconds. Now, I can understand that if you have three kids in tow, or if you have arthritis in both knees, you might want to park a little closer. It’s just that I see relatively young and healthy individuals fight over the closer parking spots, hoping to save a little bit of time and effort. They spend far more time and gas and energy trying to find a close parking spot than they would if they just parked a little further away and walked an extra few yards.

At Walmart, I park far away, but I make sure I’m also parking next to one of those grocery cart return thingies. It irks me when people don’t return their carts to those cart return thingies. The only way I can justify not returning a cart would be if zombies attacked Walmart. If zombies attack Walmart, by all means, roll your cart at them and run like the dickens.  (I'm not sure where the saying "the dickens" came from, but if a zombie Charles Dickens were chasing me, I doubt I'd be running like the dickens.  I'd be like, "HEY!  You're an undead Charles Dickens!  Can I have your autograaaaaaaaaaufhghg!?" And he would eat my brainz.  I'd be honored to have Charles Dickens eat my brainz, by the way.)

2) Only Back It Up Back It Up When Absolutely Necessary

The bane of my parking lot existence is those little concrete barriers they put between two parking spaces that are lined up in the same little row. I like it when I can pull my car into one space and just drive it on through to the space across from it so that the front of my car is facing the opening of the space. No backing up necessary! I use these convenient spaces whenever humanly possible…even if it means I have to park further away from the building (see #1).

3) Circumnavigate the Globe Lot

One of the easiest ways to slow down the entry into or exit from a parking lot is to go where pedestrians typically cross. Whenever possible, I go around the parking lot instead of through it. It might seem like a waste of time and gas to go a longer distance around a parking lot, but nine times out of ten, if I take the shorter distance to where more pedestrians are, I have to stop multiple times to avoid hitting someone, which wastes time and gasoline. On a related note, as a person who likes to walk across parking lots, I take great delight in making cars stop for me as I enter the “crossing zone.” Fools shoulda gone around the other way….

4) Permanent Parking

I’m not one of those people who gets upset if someone parks in my space (like that parking tyrant Kara). I’m not that possessive of public property, okay. It’s just not that big of a deal to me if I don’t park in the same place every time—I just prefer to have consistency in my parking spaces. I am a creature of habit that doesn’t like change, but there’s a greater reason why I typically like to park in the same general places.

It has happened to all of us. We leave a store and realize that we can’t remember where we parked. I really don’t know how I ever survived before I got a car with a remote. As embarrassing as it can be, sometimes it’s just necessary to click the don't panic button on the remote so that I can locate my beeping and flashing car in a crowded parking lot.

The other day I was walking towards a car that looked just like mine. Same color, same features—sunroof and spoiler and everything. It wasn’t until I tried to unlock the door that I realized it wasn’t mine. Mine was located a few feet behind it, and I didn’t realize it until the headlights came on—on the car behind the one I was trying to unlock. It kind of freaked me out a little. I think someone parked that car so close to mine just to mess with my head. …they’re out to get me, I tell you….

Yeah, so everyone misplaces their cars, but I’ve found that the chances of it happening are much less if one parks in the same space (or general area) every time they visit a particular parking lot. Knowing where your car is without having to think about it is always a good thing. It speeds up the exiting of the parking lot, and you don’t end up looking like an idiot because you don’t know where you put your car. Win-Win.



You can judge me for my quirky behavior if you want, but the way I see it, there’s nothing wrong with having a “Parking Lot Plan.” There’s nothing wrong with having a “Parking Lot Entrance and Exit Strategy.” There’s nothing wrong with having a usual parking space, along with a backup space or two. There’s nothing wrong with being extra prepared when it comes to those awkward parking situations.

I mean, haters gonna hate, but we’ll see who gets out of the parking lot first when the zombies attack Walmart. ...with otters....

SAA Ep.# 46: Stereotypical Stoplight Guy

Stoplights are probably some of the most interesting things ever invented, and they were invented by a black guy (from central KY, because people from central KY are awesome).  History is full of intelligent black men and women who have done some amazing things.  I also happen to know several hardworking black men and women who are upstanding citizens with amazing families.  So don't think I'm being racist when I speak of the stereotypical black guy who seems to be at every stoplight I encounter.

He drives some kind of souped up hooptie car.  I'm not even sure if that's how you spell hooptie, but that's what I'm going with.  He's wearing a muscle shirt and/or wifebeater.  His hair is either in awesome dreads or covered up with some kind of doo-rag...sometimes both at the same time.  His windows are rolled down.  His license plate says something like, "GNGSTALV."  Oh, and he's playing his angry rap shouting music so loudly that every car at the stoplight is shaking in time with its obnoxious vibrations.

And maybe I'm not speaking for everyone, but I think that a very small part of most of the other people at that stoplight wishes they could be as cool as stereotypical black guy.

As a hopelessly white girl, there's no way I could ever be as cool as stereotypical black guy.  I wish I could say that that kept me from trying. 

I drive a Taurus.  There's nothing hooptie about a Taurus.  I mean, despite the sunroof and spoiler on the back, my car still screams "SOCCER MOM!"  I have entertained the idea of getting a vanity plate, but I've got some personal convictions about spending $30 bucks a year just so people will be able to sit at stoplights and puzzle over the meaning of the cutesy saying I've legally plastered to the back of my car.  But if I did get a vanity plate, it wouldn't say anything cool with the word "GNGSTA."  I know what it would say.  It would say "BADHIPPY."  The reason it would say "BADHIPPY" is because I am, in fact, a bad hippy.  And I am a bad hippy not because I'm a hippy that has been naughty, but because I'm a hippy, and I'm very bad at it. 

But since the NC DMV only allows eight letters on their vanity plates, I can't get a vanity plate that says, "I'm a bad hippy because I'm a hippy, and I'm bad at it."  So I can see a vanity plate that says, "BADHIPPY" leading to all sorts of misunderstandings. 

Some people might assume that I'm a naughty hippy who likes to protest war and smoke various substances and do all the things that naughty hippies do.  That's not the case.  The very reason that I am a bad hippy is because I don't do all the things that hippies are supposed to do.  I mean, for one thing, I take showers every day.  But people who read my vanity plate wouldn't know that, and they might hate me for being an unpatriotic pothead, which isn't the case.

Then, on the other hand, I can see some actual hippies reading my actual vanity plate, and they might assume that I'm insulting hippies.  If my car were parked somewhere--let's just say the Wal-mart parking lot--and some hippies saw my vanity plate and were offended, they'd probably call up all their hippy friends.  So when I left Wal-mart to return to my car, there would be a full blown hippy protest party going on on top of my car.  Hmm...on second thought...that might be pretty amazing....

But even if I did have a cool vanity plate that led to spontaneous hippy parties, I still would not be as cool as stereotypical black guy. 

I do like to roll my windows down when the weather is nice.  Lately, the temperatures have been near or over 100 degrees here, so I've actually used my common sense and utilized my car's air conditioner.  But when the weather is closer to 60-80 degrees, I'll roll the windows down.  I have several reasons for this.  1) I really like the feel of the wind on my face and in my hair.  I'm a bad hippy, after all.  2) Despite all the google articles I've read that state the contrary, I really do feel that I'm getting better gas mileage if I don't use the air conditioning.  3) I like being obnoxious and blasting my music for everyone to hear it.

Only, I don't like rap music.  I don't even like what's popular on the radio these days.  I listen to Christian radio.  And most of the cds I listen to are also Christian artists.  The ones that aren't Christian artists are artists that are closer to my grandfather's age than they are to mine.  The ones that are Christian artists are either dead or so obscure that even other people who listen to Christian radio haven't even heard of them.  So if you happen to drive up beside me at a stoplight and we both have our windows down, you might just be treated to some Rich Mullins.  So instead of hearing some obnoxiously loud reverberating cool rap, you're gonna hear some obnoxiously loud hammered dulcimer.  Oh yeah.  I'm awesome. 

Maybe I should just get some dreads.

SAA Ep. #43: Chivalry Fails

Sometimes I feel really bad for guys--especially in the South.  I mean, up North in Yankeeville (and in border states like KY, where I am from originally), guys aren't always expected to hold open doors or show courtesy to women-folk.  But down here where I live, it's generally expected for guys to show a certain amount of courtesy to females.  This includes opening doors and stepping aside to let them pass.  Some guys like to call this chivalry, and I'm learning to just go ahead and let them.  I mean, if you want to get technical, that whole Courtly Love thing and Chivalric code has little to do with guys opening doors for girls, but that's what people mean today when they say chivalry.  They mean guys opening doors for girls (and guys just generally being polite to girls).  Never you mind that if a girl opened a door for another girl, it would just be called common courtesy and not "chivalry."  Never you mind that a door isn't a Dragon, and by opening it a guy is not slaying it.  But I digress....  I have door issues.

But I feel bad for guys because sometimes they just really don't know what to do.  Even where I live, in the South, there are a lot of transplanted Yankees (yes, we call them that...sometimes...while we're running around barefoot chewing on grass and playing washboards in our jug bands).  So a poor guy might try to be nice and open a door for a female, as is usually expected, and in return for his kindness, he might get a lecture. 

I'm not a feminist.  I don't have a problem with a guy holding a door for me, as long as he's not all smug about it.  Because, as I mentioned before, a guy holding a door for me is polite, but it's not comparable to him slaying a Dragon.  If he expects more congratulations than a simple thank you, then he deserves a lecture.

I think I'm feeling sorrier for guys right now because I've had a couple awkward moments lately.  Both were in the grocery store.  Ok, so technically speaking, they were both in Wal-mart, my home away from home.

I was weaving my way through the aisles in our newly renovated Wal-mart.  That's right.  The Wal-mart I used to know backwards and forwards has been drastically changed so that I actually have to THINK when I shop.  I was trying to find the handsoap.  That sounds like an easy task, right?  Yeah, but for no apparent reason, the Wal-mart gods decided the handsoap would be better located on the opposite side of the aisle.  So I had to wander about aimlessly to try and find it. 

When I finally realized where the soap probably was, I tried to turn around.  But my quest was again thwarted.  A man with a large grocery cart blocked the aisle I needed to enter.  He stood there, smiling, and said, "Go ahead."  I tried to explain that I needed right where he was, but he persisted in a gentlemanly fashion, "Please, go ahead.  I'm only going one aisle over.  I don't mind waiting for you."

"Um, I kind of need right where you are," I said, trying not to be rude about it.  But there really wasn't a way to let the guy save face.  He got out of my way, scowling--not at me, I don't think, but at himself.  Some guys take that fake chivalry thing pretty seriously.

The other situation was similar, but much more fun.

I was trying to get something out of the freezer section.  This guy moved over, thinking he was giving me access to what I wanted.  Instead, he blocked the very door I needed.  And he stood there.  Grinning.  Obviously proud of himself for completing what he considered to be a chivalric gesture.

Again, I had to attempt to not be rude when I said, "Um, I kind of need right where you are."

This guy didn't scowl.  Instead, he played it off rather humorously.  "D'oh!  Chivalry fail!" he exclaimed, and jumped out of my way, making a grandiose sweeping gesture with his arms. 

I didn't bother correcting him (allowing me access to the frozen pizza didn't technically count as chivalry) because it was so stinkin' funny.  And for once I actually had something cute to say in reply.  "It's okay.  You still get brownie points for trying." 

And then his girlfriend came and gave me a dirty look and dragged the knight in shining sports jersey and baggy jeans away.

And then a fire-breathing Dragon appeared out of nowhere and went on a rampage down the bread aisle, and I was gallantly  rescued by a handsome prince steering a shimmering grocery cart.  And he swooped me up and carried me to the check out lane, where we purchased our delicious ware and lived happily ever after. 

I might have made that last part up.

SAA Ep. #32 Shopping for Awkwardness

There are two places that I normally shop for all my groceries.  Wal-mart and Target.  Both of them Super.  Now, it's true that I will occasionally visit a Lowe's for a half gallon of milk or something, but I generally stick to the Super Target and Super Wal-mart--because they're Super!

Wait.  Let me pause to explain something for anyone who doesn't live where I live, because the last sentence of my first paragraph might not make too much sense.  When I first moved here, someone told me they were going to Lowe's to get some milk.  I was like, "Since when do home improvement stores sell milk?  Are you drinking white paint without your knowledge?"  See, everywhere else I've lived, Lowe's has been a home improvement store.  I think my dad used to have an affair with that store...but that's neither here nor there.

The thing is, where I live now, there are places known as "Lowe's Foods."  There are lots of them.  In fact, there are at least two Lowe's Foods on the way home from two of my jobs.  I literally cannot drive home from work without passing at least two of these grocery stores...and I live within 20 minutes of where I work.  So sometimes it's just more convenient for me to run into a Lowe's to get a half gallon of paint...or milk...or whatever.  We also have a Lowe's home improvement store, which has added to all of the confusion--especially when I try to give people directions. 

I'm not very good at giving people directions.

Well, there are several other places where I can buy groceries in this area.  There are Food Lions and Aldis and Krogers, oh my!  There's also this really uber expensive grocery store that caters to those I like to refer to as "Grocery Snobs."  This grocery store is called Harris Teeter.  I've probably only set foot inside a Harris Teeter like...twice, even though there are THREE Harris Teeters within a five minute drive from where I live.

One of my excursions to Harris Teeter was this week. They've got this triple coupon thing going on all week.  I was thinking...hmm.  I have coupons.  Hmm.  I could have them tripled.  Hmm.  I could save money like those "Coupon Snobs." 

Turns out, I didn't do my research.  They're only offering that coupon tripling thing on coupons with a face value of 99 cents.  The vast majority of my coupons were for $1.00.  That 1 freakin' cent is what got me.  The few coupons I did have for under $1.00 were already expired...because I fail at shopping. 

Add to this disaster was the fact that Harris Teeter is just like the Taj Mahal of grocery stores.  I don't belong in the Taj Mahal of grocery stores.  I belong at Wal-mart.  I seriously wandered aimlessly around the aisles like a lost puppy.  See, I can navigate Wal-mart like a pro.  I'm almost as good at finding my way around Target (I just get confused because they don't have an official craft section, so what's a girl to do when she NEEDS glitter glue?!).  But at Harris Teeter, I kept having to look at those little "aisle guides" like an amateur.  I never could find the peanut butter...not that I needed it, but that store was totally freaking me out, and peanut butter felt safe.

And the "Grocery Snobs" and "Coupon Snobs"??  They knew it.  They could smell my newbie-ness.  They knew I didn't belong there.  They were all getting their 99 cents or less coupons tripled, or else they were so rich they didn't have to care about saving money.  I'll bet they even knew where the peanut butter was...if a store that hoity-toity even has peanut butter...which I'm starting to doubt.

Okay, so apparently they do.  But it's that ostentatious peanut butter...the organic kind...with organic Valencia peanuts.

CURSE YOU HARRIS TEETER! 
YOU MOCK ME WITH YOUR OSTENTATIOUS PEANUT BUTTER! 

I found out they do have pickles, and they weren't THAT expensive.  And I thought, eh, what the heck?  I could go for some pickles.  Then one way or another, I mysteriously found myself in the ice cream aisle (funny how that ALWAYS seems to happen). 

I figured that ice cream at Harris Teeter would cost me a literal arm and leg, which might mean it was the only ice cream in the world that would actually help me LOSE weight.  But to my surprise, the Harris Teeter "brand" non-ostentatious ice cream was only about $2.50.  $2.50 for ice cream is a good deal.  And it was even "light" ice cream, so I bought some.

Then came time to pay for my stuff.  This was confusing to me.  I didn't have a cart; I was carrying a basket.  And I didn't see anywhere to put said basket.  Even the checkout lanes mocked me.  So I just awkwardly stood in line holding my basket, letting the "Grocery Snobs" in line ahead of me think their nasty nasty thoughts about me. 

Fortunately, I was saved by a dashing cashier who informed me that his line was empty.  I must not have noticed because the social awkwardness was making me hyperventilate.  The cashier took my basket from me so I didn't have to worry about it.  I appreciated that.

He also noted that I didn't have a VIC card (one of those cards that grocery stores give out to make you think you're saving money, when all along the stuff you're buying is cheaper at Wal-mart WITHOUT any kind of special card) and offered to just give me the VIC card discount on the stuff anyway.  Then he noticed what I was buying.

Pickles.
And.
Ice Cream.

Dude totally thought I was pregnant.

Some people have mad coupon skills.  I am not one of them.  From now on, I'm sticking with what I know.  Wal-mart and Target.

Super.

SSA Ep. # 28: I Don't Work At Wal-mart, but I Play One On TV

I live in a small (but quickly growing) town that is extremely close to a much larger town.  Because I'm originally from a town that's about as small as the town in which I am currently living, large towns are too big for me.  Most people would consider the much larger town near my small town to be...well, still kind of smallish.  I think of it as a big city...a metropolis, if you will.  I've only been downtown a couple of times, and even then, someone else was driving.  It's because I'm scared of the metropolis...even if the metropolis is really just a large town.

Now, I was either in middle school or high school when something remarkable happened in my small hometown.  It was an event that changed that small town forever.  What was this remarkable event? 

We got a Super Wal-mart.

Never again would we have to make trips to multiple stores.  Wal-mart now had Wal-marty things AND grocieries.  It changed my life, I tell you.  And I knew it was because I was from a small town.  Only in small towns would people get excited about the opening of a Super Wal-mart, right?

Only...a few months ago, in this large town/metropolis that is near the small town where I currently reside, a new Super Wal-mart opened.  And people went crazy.  Apparently, Wal-mart is a big deal whether you live in a small town or a big town. 

I like Wal-mart.  I like it a lot.  I like it because I can get a week's worth of groceries, a birthday present for my niece, a hair dryer, a pair of jeans, and a turkey baster--all in the same place.   If I can find a short check-out lane, I can get in and out in about half an hour.  I like it because it's comfortable.  I know the layout of the store so well that I don't even have to plan my shopping route.  (Other people do that, too, right?  You plot out the best path from the shampoo aisle to the produce aisle, taking account the possible traffic you might find in women's clothing and jewelry as compared to the open aisle next to electronics...right?)  I like it also because I know I'm going to spend less money on all my random purchases, because let's face it--nothing says "CHEAP" like Wal-mart.  The thing I have to be careful about is getting distracted by shiny objects and buying things I don't really need.  But if I'm careful and stick to my list, I'm safe. 

Wal-mart and I are good buddies.  BFFs.  We get along just great.  The only problem I really have with Wal-mart is that I've heard they don't treat their employees very well.  I've had a lot of friends who have worked at Wal-mart who have confirmed this.  The way they spoke, Wal-mart was like the darkest, deepest, most depressing pit of evil imaginable ever.

Shrug.

I've never worked at Wal-mart.  Never.

I've been mistaken for a Wal-mart worker more times than I can count.

The first time it happened, I was standing in the deodorant aisle, looking for...well, deodorant.  This older middle aged woman came up to me and asked me where the tampons were.  My first thought was to say, "Are you sure someone your age still needs them?" but instead I just smiled and said I wasn't sure.  She got a all moody and huffed away, which only confirmed my original suspicion that this woman was long past her need for tampons.  Then I realized what had just occurred.  She was asking me where something was because she thought I worked there.

This was the first of many incidents.  There was the lady who asked me if I had any more shirts in her size.  There was the gentleman who asked me to do a price check for him.  There was the other gentleman who wanted me to help him find something.  When I told him I didn't work there, he asked to speak with my manager. 

...?

Yeah.  I'm not sure what it is about me that screams "I WORK AT WAL-MART"...because I don't.  I mean, I can understand how some people might assume I work at Target since I accidently wear red almost every time I go there, but seriously.  I do not have one of those "How can I help you today?" blue vests.  I don't have a name tag with a smiley face on it. 

Maybe I just look like someone who's desperately trying to claw her way out of the deepest, darkest, most depressing pit of evil imaginable ever.

...only I don't get an employee discount.