The power of a small brown make-up bag

So, I was running late. I decided to just find a random parking lot downtown instead of my usual spot that required me to walk a few extra blocks. It was a usual day and I was feeling pretty good about the day despite the hurried schedule. I wore a comfy jeans and sweatshirt combo. Given my rush out of the house that morning I threw on a hat and neglected my make-up bag. No big deal, I usually don’t get too bothered about appearances while doing street outreach.

As I pulled in I handed the parking attendant my credit card. Without taking it he shook his head no. “We don’t take credit cards. Cash only.” His bright plaid shirt seemed a bit loud in appearance but it was his abruptness that was even louder. “OK” I thought except I really was in a hurry and could use the help….. “I’m so sorry” I apologized, “is there any way you could just let me run to an ATM on my way back?” Given his disinterest I wasn’t surprised at his response. “Nope, sorry. Cash only. You’ll have to just drive in and turn around, I’ll let you out.” Well, that was that. Of course he had rules to follow and it would be unfortunate if he got in trouble for disregarding them.

I didn’t think twice about it until this Tuesday. I was heading to the Capitol that morning to lobby with some other people from a coalition. I made sure to have my best dress pants on, full make-up... the whole enchilada. I even underwent the annoying task of blow drying my hair, which is a rare occurrence. I had plenty of time that morning but it seemed like everyone else in the metro area had the same idea and they all took my parking spot. I didn’t realize that I had turned into that same lot until I saw the same man standing there, bright plaid and all. I realized I had made a wrong turn. I pulled into the lot ready to explain to him that I just needed to turn around and find another spot but he unfolded his arms and flagged me to stop. I rolled down the window and before I could get a word out he asked “Looking for a spot? Number 23 is open.” I grinned and told him no thanks but I didn’t have cash on me and I just needed to turn around to find another place that takes credit card. “No need to do that, Sugar.” He unfolded his arms and bent down to lean on my window “You can take that spot and just pay me when you come back.” It seemed like 2 entire minutes of confusion but really it was more like a few seconds until I caught on. “Oh really?” I said with a sweet smile, “I thought you didn’t take cash.” He smiled back a little more interested “well, technically we don’t but I’ll make an exception.” So, I decided to take advantage of my lip gloss and straight smooth hair and I parked, waving thank you as I walked on. I could almost feel his eyes burning into the back of my neck as I walked away, leaving only the sound of my high heels clicking on the pavement.

I was gone about 4 hours and returned with my ten dollars to pay my debt. This time there were two men inside the entrance booth. One took a clipboard off the wall as I walked up and then he asked if I was number 23. I said "yes", a little curious how he knew that the white car in that spot was mine. Perhaps I was the only one who hadn't paid that morning or perhaps the man next to him in the bright plaid shirt told him. None the less, I paid my dues and turned to the flannel lover asking “you know, I was just here last week and you didn’t let me park. You said that you didn’t take credit cards.” He looked at me bewilderedly and replied with an intelligent “humph”. Noticing his limited vocabulary, I continued “Do you remember me?” I asked. “I’m driving the same car but I might look a little different, I wasn’t working that day.” He wore an honest blank stare on his face and murmured “Nope sorry, don’t remember you. Maybe you were thinking of someone else."
“Hmm…..maybe” I said.
Oink Oink.