Wrong Way!

It was the Christmas season and the mall was predictably crowded. I had gone back and forth, up and down each aisle of the parking garage. I was on the third level and still could not find a single empty space. Exiting shoppers were being followed closely by SUVs, mini-vans and luxury cars alike. I chose my overloaded shopper carefully and followed her to her car. I watched as she opened her trunk and loaded her many packages carefully and closed lid solidly. I had my blinker on indicating to all others that this was, indeed, my parking spot. I had earned it and it was mine. My shopper, on the other hand, still had money to spend. I know this because she walked away from her car and headed back in the direction of the mall entrance. I continued my scouting mission. I was not to be deterred by this minor setback.

As I began my quest up yet another aisle, I saw a vehicle approaching me. This was a bit annoying because the aisles were “One Way” and very narrow. This vehicle had a yellow rotating light on the top. As I pulled carefully to the right—as close to the row of parked cars as I dared—the security patrolman stopped his official little truck and rolled down his window. I, likewise, rolled down my window. We were so close, I could smell the stale coffee on his breath. He said, “Lady, you’re going the wrong way.”

I looked quickly at the cars on my left and on my right and they were all parked in the same direction I was driving. I said, “I don’t think so—“ he cut me off abruptly. “Lady, this is one way and you are going the wrong way.”

I was momentarily confused as I once again looked at the direction of the parked cars. “I don’t understand—“

“Lady, you are going the wrong way. Go back the other way.” Ok. Now this was getting serious. How was I to turn around in this narrow passageway? It was a very long aisle and he seemed very short on patience.

At this point, my husband leaned across console and spoke through the open window. Pointing at the sign with the arrow, he said, “Sir, I believe you are the one going the wrong way.” The security guard turned his head in the direction of my husband’s authoritative finger. (Not that finger, silly! What are you thinking?!) He turned back to me, tipped his cap, and said, “Have a nice day.” He drove on to find other holiday offenders.

I cringe to think of how often I have pointed out to others the direction—in my humble opinion—they ought to be going. I remember others, besides the mall security guy, who have shared with me the path they felt I should choose, or leave, or do differently. But I have found that it is usually best for each of us to establish first of all, if we are headed in the right direction before mandating the course for others.