The F*#$ing Four Dollar Friday

The state of affairs has finally come to this: I've paid over $100K for my medical education, but the $4 parking fee today put me just about over the top.

So I'm currently doing a rotation at a slightly away from Seattle site (names will be withheld to protect the innocent, but let it be said that I commute about 1h each way Qday) and was granted space in the parking garage there...my key to exit without pay on an Orange Post-It Note in the window of the parking attendant booth. Each exit I would explain to the attendant,

"Hey there, my name's Abby, I'm a medical student, and my name is on that Orange Post-It Note..." blah blah blah. They'd smile, nod, and let me free.

But yesterday, the parking attendant lady (let us call her the Parking Priss) had her hackles up, and confronted me on how it was that I got out free. She sputtered that there are medical students in the building all the time, and they don't get free parking; she demanded to know 'who called who' to arrange the Orange Post-It Note. I didn't know much about that. She told me,

"Well, I guess I'll let you out now but I'm going to follow up with this, because I don't think you should be parking here for free." And up goes her nose.

The next day (today) I overheard the head nurse at my clinic saying she got a message saying I couldn't park there anymore, which was fine with me...there's other parking around the building. The nurse was up in arms, however, because they have medical students all the time and there's never a problem.

At any rate, for today, there was the problem of getting out of the garage free. One. Last. Time.

Again, I approached the parking attendant booth, with my usual line,

"Hey there, my name's Abby, I'm a medical student, and my name is on that Orange Post-It Note..." blah blah blah.

This time there was a pubescent, nervous appearing male at the booth. It became immediately clear that the Parking Priss had put the Fear of God into him regarding gleaning my $4 parking fee. He began to stammer out that I wasn't to park in the garage for free anymore.

Me: "Okay, I'll park elsewhere from now on."
Prepubescent Boy: "That'll be four dollars."
Me: "uhhhmmm, since I just found out that I can't park here today, is it really fair that I pay the fee this time?"
Prepubescent Boy: "Do you have four dollars?"
Me: "No."
Prepubescent Boy: (stammer, stammer, stammer. Shifts feet here)
Me: "I think it's really unfair that although I've been parking here all week for free, and although today I didn't know I couldn't park here any longer, I still have to pay a fee."
Prepubescent Boy: "Um, do you have four dollars?"
Me: "Arg. Fine. Do you take credit cards?"

Indeed, he did. I scribbled out a signature on the receipt, and left. I ranted out my frustration in the hour long drive back to Seattle. Sheesh. At least I had some Hector Lavoe to help me groove out those rough moments!

And to top the bad karma of the day off, I'm bitter because I got all gussied up to go to the Prom at the Century Ballroom, and the party I planned to go with disintegrated! I didn't get to go re-live my Prom! Pout, pout, pout!