I have no words.
Ok, I have words.
This, ladies and gents, is why I have a blog about the ridiculous things that happen to me. It never stops.
As you may recall, over the past month, I have been the recipient of two random notes from strangers. The first, from my neighbour who lives below me, who wondered why I was vacuuming at 2:30pm when she was trying to study (My neighbour (and my vacuum) can suck it!). The second, from my neighbour who lives next to me, a lovely, totally unnecessary, apology note for knocking on my door at the late hour of 9:15pm (Oh no. Now I’m the Note Nazi.). Prior to this month, the last time I received a note from someone was when my friends would pass them back and forth in our lockers about what happened on Dawson’s Creek that week.
Yesterday came this month’s third note. This time, it was placed on my vehicle while I was at work. And, like the last two notes, it was totally unrelated to the notes that preceded it. Three independent note incidents in one month. I AM SURROUNDED BY MUTES!!!
When I got to work (a small university) yesterday morning, it was blizzarding (it’s a word). The yellow lines in the staff/faculty parking lot were not visible, so I lined myself up with the curb, and went on my merry way.
Ok, the grass isn’t that green right now. It’s winter. Just work with me here.
At the end of the day, I walked back to my car and, since the snow had now melted, realized that the lines do not run parallel to the curb like I had assumed.
Doh! So, needless to say, I felt a little stupid. I wanted to shout so everyone in the lot could hear me–“This is an honest mistake! I didn’t mean to park like this! I’m not a dick!”–as I snuck to my car. I pride myself on my parking abilities! I get my kicks by parallel parking for fun. Even though I was only slightly encroaching on a second parking spot, this was upsetting to me!
As I approached my car, I saw something white on the windshield. At first, I thought it was a ticket. This, with my luck, would not be surprising. But it wasn’t. It was something that made me more mad than a ticket ever could:
I was note-bombed. (Reader, do you note-bomb? Do you shame people anonymously like a coward? If so, SHAME on you. SHAME on YOU.)
Someone decided that my accidental parking blunder was worthy of rummaging through their belongings to find a piece of paper and a pen, in the middle of a snowstorm, to send me a message. What were they hoping to accomplish? That I’d go, “Gee whiz! This note is right! Golly, that’s not a nice parking job! I simply must do better next time! Thank you stranger, whoever you are! You’ve changed my life!” Maybe a normal person would have a reaction similar to that, or just, you know, ignore it altogether. That would be sane. But this is me I’m talking about here. Naturally, I turned it into a case that needed to be cracked. I decided I would do everything in my power to hunt down and confront the person who dared to tell me I’m less than perfect.
When I got to work this morning, I first questioned the people in my office who might have known it was my car and could have done it as a joke (because that I actually would have found hilarious). But something deep down in my gut told me that this case reeked of self-righteous stranger. Turns out, my office isn’t funny. None of my colleagues wrote it. I branched out to other areas of the school, stomping from department to department clutching the ripped Hilroy in my shaking hands.
“Look here, see. Did you happen to leave a note on a car last night?”
“Are you sure, see?”
“Yes. Why is your eye twitching like that?”
A few staff members had a hunch of who it could be. They all independently guessed the same person, but they couldn’t verify the handwriting. So, I went to three people who work closely with the suspect. They knew the handwriting. I had my perp.
The motive? My sources say this person typically parks in the spot I have been occupying for the past week. I recently switched lots, so I was unaware that a pattern had developed in the non-designated parking spots. It is a good spot. That’s why I kept parking there.
The perpetrator? A crusty old professor who is retiring this year. I had nothing to lose from a confrontation. So, I sent the accused an email (What? Passive-aggression is ok when it’s warranted! Or, when I say it is). I would have waited to talk to the perp, but professors don’t keep regular hours. If I was going to spook the suspect, I needed to be on it like white on mice (hehe, it works for more than rice: lice, dice, SLICEd bread…ok, I’ll stop). I had to show the thug who’s boss. I sent the email by 10:00am. It was polite and professional, but tactful. I didn’t outright make an accusation, but basically said, IF it was you, then HERE is what happened with the snow and hidden yellow lines and THIS is why I didn’t appreciate a passive-aggressive, bullying, anonymous note. And, IF it wasn’t you, then do you know who it was? Can ya help a girl out?
A hero, you say? Nah, I’m just a regular person.
At 3:30pm, the suspect came clean. The offender sheepishly shuffled into my office, shut the door, and grovelled. “I am so sorry…Everything you said in that email was right…I need to be put in my place sometimes…I was having a bad morning, but that’s no excuse…Thank you for calling me out…I was at the drug store today and couldn’t find an apology card suitable to the situation. But when I find one, it’s coming your way…I feel just awful…I’m mortified by my behaviour…Will you forgive me?”
Geez. There’s such a thing as overkill. But I could see the perp was genuinely distraught (by little ol’ me?), so I was touched. I accepted the apology and was very kind and gracious through the entire proceeding. I was humbled by it. I was so moved, in fact, that to surprise the offender, I will discontinue parking in that spot. The lines are confusing anyway.
Jesus, you say? Nah, I’m just a regular person.