As a foreman, I’ve been on a lot of construction sites in my 20 years of working in the business, but there’s one thing I’ll never forget: the day a mom parked right in the middle of our no-parking zone like the rules didn’t apply to her. It was one of those moments where you think, “Oh, this is gonna be good.”
I asked her politely to move, but she just shrugged me off and said, “Deal with it.” I couldn’t believe it! But little did she know, karma was already on its way, and it didn’t take long to show up.
Have you ever had one of those moments when someone’s bad attitude turned into pure entertainment? Well, let me tell you about the morning I had. Karma came in like a speeding truck, and I got to see it hit hard, and fast!
My name’s Bob, and I’m 40 years old. I’m a foreman for a construction crew, and we’ve been working on building a house up halfway on a mountain. Well, okay, not a real mountain, but it sure felt like it when you’re carrying plywood up a steep footpath in the middle of July, sweating through every shirt you own.
We’ve been on this project for weeks. The site’s so high up there’s no road, just a narrow path. So, all the materials, from the boards and beams to every single nail, have to be carried up by hand. Every. Single. Time.
There’s only one break we get during the day – two parking spots down at the bottom of the hill. And of course, they’re marked: No Parking. Tow Away Zone. Those spots are basically sacred to us. They’re the only way we can get deliveries in without too much of a hassle.
One day, I was just starting to catch my breath when my buddy Mike called out to me from the scaffolding, “Bob! Jerry’s on the phone. Says the lumber delivery’s coming early!”
I wiped the sweat from my face and grabbed my phone. “Hey, Jerry! How far out are you?”
“About three minutes, man. Got the roof trusses and the whole load.”
“I’ll clear the spot for you. See you in three!”
I stuffed my phone in my pocket and started heading down the hill, ready to make sure our precious loading zone stayed clear.
As I turned the corner, I saw it. A shiny white SUV parked right in the middle of one of our spots. I could see a woman sitting in the front, texting away, completely oblivious to everything around her. My jaw twitched.
It’s not the first time something like this has happened, especially with the elementary school just a block away. People park wherever they feel like it, and more often than not, a polite request is enough to get them to move. But not always.
“Excuse me, ma’am!” I called out as I approached her window, trying to keep my tone friendly. “You’re parked in our construction zone. We’ve got a delivery coming in soon.”
She looked up for just a second, barely acknowledging me, then rolled the window down halfway. “I’ll be a few minutes,” she said, not even looking me in the eye. “Your truck isn’t even here. Just chill out, dude.”
The window rolled back up, cutting the conversation short. I sighed, about to try again when suddenly, the loud rumble of an engine caught my attention. Jerry’s massive delivery truck was coming around the corner, ready to unload.
I knocked on the woman’s window again. She barely looked at me, but after a few taps, she finally lowered it.
“WHAT?” she snapped.
“The truck’s here,” I said, trying to stay calm. “You’re parked in a no-parking zone. You need to move now.”
She glanced at Jerry’s truck, then back at me with a look that could have frozen water.
“Can’t you guys just unload around me? It’s not that hard,” she said, tossing the window back up again.
I gritted my teeth. “Fine,” I muttered to myself. “We’ll work around you.”
“What’s the plan, Bob?” Jerry asked, already leaning out of his truck.
I smiled, a plan starting to form. “She wants us to work around her? Let’s do exactly that.”
Jerry’s eyes lit up, and without a word, he maneuvered his truck as close as he could to the SUV, blocking her driver’s side door. On the other side, we had the porta-potty, so the SUV was now completely boxed in.
“Perfect,” I said, holding back a grin.
“Looks like she’s not happy,” Jerry chuckled, glancing at the woman through his side mirror.
“Let’s start unloading. I’m calling parking enforcement, just to cover our bases,” I said, already pulling out my phone.
“Bob!” someone called from up the hill. I turned to see my crew arriving to help with the unloading.
“Let’s move, guys! We’ve got a roof to build!”
As my team started hauling the lumber up the hill, I saw movement in the SUV. The woman had just realized she couldn’t get out of her car. I saw her frantically waving her phone around, probably trying to figure out how to get help, but I wasn’t done yet.
“The parking officer will be here in about 30 minutes,” I told Jerry.
“Thirty minutes?” Jerry sighed. “Well, we’ll still be here. This is a big job.”
About 20 minutes later, a little boy with a blue backpack walked up to the SUV and tapped on the window. The woman tried to climb across the center console, tumbling out of the passenger side in a not-so-graceful fashion.
“Mommy, why are you coming out that way?” the boy asked, his voice carrying enough for us to hear.
“Because these IDIOTS blocked me in!” she hissed, adjusting her fancy blouse and glaring at us. She pushed her son into the backseat and stormed over to where Jerry and I were checking off the inventory.
“I need to leave NOW!” she demanded, crossing her arms. “Move. Your. Truck.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but Jerry jumped in before I could say a word.
“Ma’am, in order to unload the lumber, we had to unstrap it,” Jerry said slowly, like he was explaining things to a child. “Company policy says we can’t move the truck with an unsecured load. Safety rules. I’m sure you understand.”
Her face turned beet-red. “Forget your policy! I have places to be!”
I took a deep breath. “We asked you nicely to move earlier. You told us to work around you. So that’s exactly what we’re doing.”
“This is ridiculous!” she shouted. “I’m going to report both of you!”
Just then, a parking enforcement vehicle pulled up behind Jerry’s truck. Officer Martinez stepped out, holding a clipboard.
The woman didn’t notice her at first. She was too busy pointing at me, shouting, “I swear to God, if you don’t move this truck right now—”
I couldn’t resist. “Can’t you just pull out around it? It’s not that hard,” I said, throwing her own words back at her.
Her face went from red to pale. It was priceless.
“Forget you!” she spat, storming back to her SUV.
Officer Martinez raised an eyebrow and looked at me. “Morning, Bob. Got your call about the parking situation.”
Before I could explain, there was a loud engine roar, and we turned to see the woman throwing her SUV into reverse.
“Oh no,” Jerry muttered.
The SUV shot backward, like a car on ice, and slammed straight into the porta-potty. The thing tipped over, spraying blue goo everywhere, before it fell over and lay there like it needed a nap.
“HOLY COW!” I gasped.
The woman shifted into drive and tried to escape by mounting the curb. She got halfway up before getting stuck, her wheels spinning and the engine revving uselessly.
Officer Martinez was already running toward her. “TURN OFF YOUR ENGINE! NOW!”
The woman froze, realizing she’d made a big mistake—one she couldn’t undo.
“Step out of the vehicle, ma’am,” Officer Martinez ordered, hand on her radio.
“I… these men trapped me,” she stammered, climbing out of the passenger side, looking absolutely defeated.
“Hands where I can see them.”
“My son is in the car.”
“I know,” Officer Martinez said calmly. “We’ll take care of that.”
Within minutes, backup arrived, and the woman was sitting on the curb in handcuffs. The panic was clear on her face, and her son sat wide-eyed in the backseat of her SUV, staring at the scene unfold.
“Can you give us your home phone number?” Officer Rodriguez asked, looking at the boy. “We need to call someone to pick you up.”
As Jerry signed off on his delivery and prepared to leave, a tow truck pulled up to take the SUV away. The woman, now completely defeated, was helped into the back of the patrol car.
“Turns out she was driving on a suspended license,” Officer Martinez told me. “Plus reckless driving, child endangerment, and destruction of property. She’s gonna have a lot to deal with.”
I watched as the boy’s grandmother arrived to pick him up. She looked like this wasn’t the first time she’d been called to clean up her daughter’s mess.
Later that evening, my crew and I were sitting on a pile of freshly delivered lumber, enjoying some cold drinks after a hard day’s work.
“You should’ve seen her face when you threw her own words back at her,” Jerry laughed, cracking open another can of soda.
“I almost felt bad,” I admitted. “Almost.”
“Don’t feel bad, man. Some people need to learn the hard way.”
“Any word on the porta-potty?” someone asked.
“They’re sending a replacement tomorrow,” I said. “Luckily, it was due for service anyway.”
We all laughed and raised our cans for a toast.
“To entitled parents everywhere,” Jerry said with a grin. “May the parking spots they steal always come with a side of instant karma.”
“And may they learn,” I added, “that in construction, just like in life, the harder you push, the more you get stuck.”
As the sun set over our half-built house, I couldn’t help but smile. Tomorrow, we’d have more work to do, more materials to haul, and more problems to solve. But at least our parking spots would be clear.
And somewhere across town, one mom learned a very expensive lesson about patience, respect, and the price of entitlement. Maybe next time, she’ll think twice before telling someone to “deal with it.”
