It's December 9, which means its 16 days to Christmas, but the last thing I feel right now is jolly or holly or filled with the Spirit of Christmas...
Why, you may ask?
Because I came home from a quick trip to the grocery store tonight and found someone parked right in front of my parking spot (we have assigned spots here in our condo), and illegally, to boot (she was parked directly under the No Parking sign...the one that is designated for emergency vehicles only? Yeah, that spot...)
When I indicated that she needed to move so that I could get my car into my spot (and let's be clear, I don't drive some little mini "smart" car that can fit into a spot the size of a milk carton...I drive a VAN. We need room to manoever.), she shook her head "no" at me. I sat behind her, waiting for her to get the hint. She moved. A foot. I still sat behind her. I rolled down my window as she got out of her car and called to her, "You can't park there, it's a no parking zone and I have to get into my spot!" She said, "I'm just unloading my stuff..." to which I replied, "Doesn't matter, it's a no parking zone and I can't get in with you there," thinking that logic should prevail and she would move her vehicle.
She did.
One foot.
By that time I was annoyed and even Mariah Carey belting out "All I Want For Christmas" (which has been my happy-feel-good-song this season) didn't help...and so I waited behind her car, pointing at the spot I wanted.
She moved another half foot.
I managed to get into my spot, but because of the angle at which I had to enter, ended up having to reverse the van so I could straighten the thing out. I saw my headlights shining on the side of her car, which was when I put the brakes on, despite the fact that I wanted to hit her car.
I got out of my van at the same time that she jumped out of her car, screaming at me that I had hit her car. (I didn't, for the record) She grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down my license plate number, spewing f-bombs at me faster than I've ever heard before (and believe me, I've been f-you'd more than a few times in my life)...when I told her she didn't need to swear at me, she barked off another f-you at me..."I'm calling my insurance company!"
"Go ahead," I told her, maintaining the appearance of calm (even if it was the last thing I felt). "You were parked illegally. Besides, if I'd hit you, I would have felt it."
And I walked toward my front door, glad it was dark out and she couldn't see me shaking. She screamed at me one more time, "You backed into my car!" to which I replied, oh so maturely, "Whatever..."
Once safely inside my own house, I told Brian, who was trying to finish his last two articles of the day, about what had happened. He listened to me, and then at my request, he went out to talk to the woman. See, as a rule, my husband is way more diplomatic than me, and he has the ability to not only assess a situation accurately, but is also capable of thinking of things instantly that most others (okay, me) don't think about until long after the fact. And so I sent him out into the fray (to defend my honor?). He came back and his words of wisdom and support were, "Don't worry about it."
Wh-a-a-t?
An hour or so after the fact, I can see why he said it...there really isn't anything I can do to prevent her from making a claim and the only recourse I have is to tell the truth and hope that I am the one who is believed.
Unlike my husband, however, I do not have the ability to just "let it go until tomorrow"...I have always chewed and stewed over things, wishing that I had handled the situation differently or that I could have said something wittier, more biting, nastier...something that would have hurt that obnoxious witch to the quick...in short, something written by someone else...this whole "let it be" stuff is just not my style (not that Brian hasn't been trying to teach me for the last 14 or so years)...
My friend Ian came over to loan me a cat crate for tomorrow (our kitten is being neutered, thank goodness, tomorrow morning-more on that at a later date), and Brian and I asked him what he knew about the woman who lived next door to him. She's a lovely lady, he informed us. Really? We told him what had happened and he replied, "Oh, that's not Helen, that's her daughter."
Ian told Brian and I that the neighbor has two daughters...one who is perfectly lovely and the one I had a run in with. The word "bitch" was a nice way of describing her, based on Ian's observations.
Clearly this woman is the one with the problem, not me.
But for now, I am dealing with the aftereffects of the adrenaline dump and not feeling so ho-ho-ho...I am going to hope and pray that the insurance companies believe me, not her...
The kids are starting to watch "Shrek The Halls"...so I'm going to go join them and use my babies as my feel good tonic tonight...cuddling up with four people who love me unconditionally (5 if you count Brian) sounds like the right medicine to me...
If she reports the "accident" to her insurance company they'll have to send an adjuster and an adjuster's job is first and foremost to prevent the companies they work for from paying out any money. Unless there is visable damage - which there won't be if you didn't hit her - there won't be a claim to process. If, by chance, you kissed her car and didn't feel the bump and it produced ANY damage, it's likely going to be a very small scratch or dent, both of which can be buffed out or hammered out quite easily and for far less than her deductible. So, she won't be calling her insurance company.
ReplyDeleteBut, next time, just let her know that you're going to leave your van running behind her while you run into the house and grab the phone to call the condo association and the by-law office. I'm sure by the time you start dialing she'll be gone.