When my wife emerged from the store, this is what she found:
Her car is the one on the left.
Carrying our three-week old son in his car seat at the time, she did not want to place him on the curb and climb in the passenger side in order to move the car , so she instead went back inside the establishment to find the moron who had parked beside her.
The woman turned out to be utterly unapologetic, claiming that the parking spots were “small” and assuring Elysha that she had “nothing against her or the baby.”
Nothing against her or the baby? Did the idiot think my wife was accusing her of being some kind of anti-infant parking vigilante?
Why is it so hard for people to simply admit that they screwed up? It’s as if doing so costs them a piece of their soul. My fifth graders struggle with this from time to time, but they are ten-years old.
It’s slightly more understandable.
Of my scant few talents, I sincerely believe one of my most valuable is my willingness to admit fault and accept blame almost without hesitation.
Why the hell not?