Reserved

See that spot? ======>
Is my name on it?
I don’t see it. So it would not occur to me to park in that spot.

I had a meeting at Beernut’s school [his first middle-school parent-teacher conference!] so they were expecting me.
But that doesn’t mean that the “reserved” spot was for me.

For five years, I had my own parking spot. It was a reserved spot. And it was reserved for me.
Nary a week passed without someone having the chutzpah to park in one of the staff spots.
I often wondered what was going through someone’s head as he or she was pulling into one of these spots.
I’ve never been here in my ENTIRE life, but I’m certain that the reserved spot is for me.
Or…
I’m just running in for a quick second. What’s the big deal?
Or…
It’s the rabbis’ day off so they aren’t even using their spots.
Or even…
Reserved sign? I didn’t see any sign.

Whatever the driver might or might not be thinking, the message that he or she is giving is this:

Rules are for other people. For freiers.

Wonder how shocked they’ll be when they realize that their kids don’t follow the rules either. Will they make the connection?