Apartment Parking Lot Justice: Snarky Non-Resident Learns a lesson
A Day in the Life . . .
I love all of the stories in my book, I Have A Complex, But I’m Managing It!, but this one definitely stands out as one of my all-time favs. Submitted to me by a vendor in Houston from his days in property management, this story is a good example of what happens when you push a property manager just a little too far! I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I do
Big Black Lincoln
I once worked at a large community in a thriving metropolitan city. Next door to the property was a sports bar that had become so popular with professionals it was hard to get in the door on any given night. Finding a parking spot in their lot was next to impossible—especially on weekends.
We began receiving complaints from our residents on the “sports bar” side of the property because club-goers were parking in their spaces. There was a tall fence around the community and signage that clearly said it was private property. Apparently, that wasn’t enough. So we issued parking permits for all of our residents’ vehicles and assured them we were addressing the situation.
We had an asphalt company mark parking spaces as “Resident Parking Only” and we added multiple signs warning trespassers that towing was strictly enforced. Clearly, only a fool would ignore these messages. I met that fool one Friday night when I was walking from the back of our property toward the parking lot.
The Condescending “Guest”
There were already five non-resident cars parked in our reserved parking spaces. Tow trucks had been called and I was awaiting their arrival. As I approached the cars, a long, gleaming black Lincoln that looked to be right off the showroom floor, pulled in. An expensively dressed businessman nonchalantly parked in front of a “Resident Parking Only—Towing Strictly Enforced” sign and got out of the car. I felt sure this was not one of our residents. Just in case someone had won the lottery and bought a new toy, I looked for our community parking permit on the Lincoln’s windshield. I wasn’t surprised to see there was not one.
Here we go, I thought. I strolled casually up to “Mr. Shiny Black Lincoln”, thinking I’d start with the “nice” approach.
“Good evening,” I called, smiling over at him. “You’re making a mistake. You just parked in a reserved space. They’re for the people who live here.” I nodded over to the signs he’d ignored.
“Mr. Shiny Black Lincoln” looked at me condescendingly for a moment before arrogantly dismissing me with, “It’s after hours, so no one’s getting towed,” as he turned to go to the sports bar.
I shook my head. “I really think you’re making a big mistake,” I repeated. “I happen to know that the property manager here is a real stickler for enforcing the towing policy.”
With a roll of his eyes and a final sarcastic sideways glance my way, he sauntered out of our parking lot and toward the front entrance of the sports bar.
And Then The Tow Trucks Came
Within minutes of this encounter, the tow trucks started arriving. My first order of business was to point out that shiny black Lincoln. “Start with this one,” I instructed one of the drivers.
With yellow flashing lights breaking through the growing darkness, the cars were quickly loaded and towed away into the night while I watched with satisfaction.
The next morning I was in my office when I heard a deep, loud voice bellowing from the lobby, “I want to see your manager and I want to see him NOW!”
I got up and stepped into the lobby. “May I help you?”
“Mr. Shiny Black Lincoln” angrily looked in my direction. I watched as the arrogant, pompous demeanor collapsed in recognition of just who the property manager was. With a turn of his head, he quietly muttered, “Sh*t!” then turned and walked out of our office.
At least he was smart enough to know the battle was lost before he ever began!
From the book "I Have a Complex, but I'm Managing It!" Stories from property managers compiled by Monica E. Simmons.
