Left out in the parking lot of commerce

September 2021

You can’t argue about the need for handicap spaces in parking lots. Nobody grumbles – at least out loud -- about the choice slots up near the front door set aside for people with mobility problems.

And few complained when some supermarkets added a row of 15-minute spots for dash-in-and-dash-out customers, people like me who had run out of coffee and really needed caffeine, quick.  Some big box pharmacies added these emergency spaces, too, especially the chain stores that had Pepto-Bismol, Kaopectate and Imodium up near the front.

And when Covid came, both Bag Buster Bargains and Colossal Cart Mart started reserving long stretches of pavement for people picking up phoned-in preorders. That was understandable, too – who wanted to share toxic indoor air in a search of the aisles for baking soda and diet cola?

I try to be a good citizen, and play by the rules. But sometimes the temptation to borrow one of those forbidden parking places for a few minutes was nearly impossible to deny. I struggled, though, and held fast. I never once cheated.

 ow, however, things are getting out of hand, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist. The people back at Big Box headquarters, the do-gooders in the public relations department, are crossing the little white lines and taking things too far.

I certainly appreciate the efforts of local law enforcement, but are the county mounties really deserving of special treatment?

“Law Enforcement Only – Thank You for Your Service!” says a sign at a retailer I frequent.

OK, if they’re on their way to a crime scene and really need a new ballpoint pen. But can’t they just turn on their flashing lights and park at the door? An emergency is an emergency, after all.

If they’re just out taking pictures of speeders, can’t they just park like everybody else when they need that loaf of bread on the way home?

Another spot just near the one for police, a couple of rows over, is reserved for “clergy”. And adding insult to injury, there’s one for the store employee of the week. Pray tell me…

I walk, talk – and spend -- just like these folks do, as far as I can tell. I pay my taxes, I stop at red lights, I put money in the Salvation Army buckets at Christmas.

I’m a “pro”, too, and feel no remorse when I park in the “PRO!” spots at another big box I go to. I might not be the “pro” they’re talking about, but I tell you, friends, I’m a farmer and I can grow a mean zucchini. Don’t doubt me. I’m a “pro”, too.

When I finally find a space to park, way in the back by the pallets of mulch, and then start my hike to the front door, dodging all the other frustrated would-be parkers cruising around looking for a place to land…

Do I have to run into a greeter?

“Hi, welcome to Big Bag! How are you today?”

I think I’m going to make a sign and hang it around my neck: “See my Covid mask? I could be infected. Don’t talk to me today.” 

Or one that says, “I’m in a hurry. I can’t wait to fight my way through the store looking for a line to stand in.”

Or one that suggests, “Meet me at the EXIT. That’s where I’ll really need a smile.”

I know these folks are just trying to make a living, like the people who call me at supper time to see if I’m interested in their latest hearing aid innovation.

Call me a grouch, I don’t care. I feel like retailers are beating me up, squeezing me dry and pushing my battered carcass out the door, back into the parking lot, searching for the car I’m too tired to search for now.

And they say they’re worried that online sales are going up. That brick-and-mortar business is going down. They complain that Amazon is eating their lunch.

They’d better find a new way to set their tables if they don’t want to share their food.

They’d better redesign their parking lots. Or give me a space all my own: “Grouches Only!”