Why is it that some people just seem to want to be miserable?
Now, I’m not big on revenge—it usually takes too much energy, and more often than not, it backfires.
But, for some people, it seems like they are looking for ways to make other people suffer…
They force themselves into other people’s business, convinced of their own perfection, they’re ‘teaching lessons.’
But most of the time, the situation doesn’t end up like they expect.
This is one of those times.
And, I have to admit, I couldn’t help meting out this particular ‘payback.’
Delivering Relief
It was one of those nights.
Snow piling up, temperatures dropping, and I had one last task: deliver a settlement check to a widow woman with barely five minutes to spare before she had to rush off to the airport.
The condo parking lot was packed.
Only one spot was open—a resident space. Not exactly ideal, but hey, five minutes wouldn’t hurt.
Or so I thought.
It’s Just Five Minutes—What Could Go Wrong?
After circling the lot twice, I knew I didn’t have any other options.
The only spot available was clearly labeled Resident Only, but time was running out, and I figured, what’s the worst that could happen in five minutes?
To soften the blow, I left a big, friendly note on the dashboard:
“Delivering urgent claim settlement for a widow. Will be back in five minutes. Apologies for the inconvenience!”
With my hazards flashing in solidarity, I made my way to the woman’s unit. She was waiting by the door, car keys in hand, ready to leave.
We wrapped things up in record time—check delivered, paperwork signed, and my card given in case she needed anything else.
Five minutes, start to finish.
Pleased with my efficiency, I stepped back into the cold and made my way toward the car.
But as I rounded the corner, I stopped short.
A silver sedan was parked across my front bumper, blocking me in with literal inches to spare.
Honk if You Love Drama
Alright, not exactly what I’d hoped for, but surely the owner was close by.
I gave my horn a couple of polite taps, expecting someone to step out and move the car.
But nothing happened. No doors opened, no lights flickered on in the nearby units.
So I honked again—this time a little longer.
Still nothing. Just me, my car trapped like a hostage, and the snow quietly falling.
Frustrated but trying to stay calm, I reminded myself that people do dumb things all the time.
Maybe the guy didn’t see my note. Maybe he was just having a bad day.
Out of ideas, I decided to check if the sedan was unlocked—just to see if there was any paperwork inside with a name or address.
If I could find that, I’d at least know which door to knock on.
I reached for the handle. Click. It opened.
The moment I leaned in to peek at the glove box, a voice cut through the cold air behind me.
“Get your hands off my car!”
The Art of Overreaction
I turned around to see a man marching toward me, his face set in an expression that screamed I live for moments like this.
He had the air of someone who reports his neighbors for leaving their trash bins out too long.
I raised my hands to show I wasn’t touching anything. “Whoa, easy. I was just looking for a name so I could find you. There’s a note on my windshield explaining everything—”
He wasn’t having any of it. “I don’t care about your note. You parked in my spot. That’s all I care about.”
His voice dripped with self-righteousness like I’d stolen his firstborn rather than borrowed his parking space for a few minutes.
I could see where this was going.
He folded his arms and gave me a triumphant little smirk, clearly relishing the moment. “I already called the tow service. They’ll be here any minute. Enjoy the walk home, pal.”
It took everything in me not to laugh out loud.
This guy was acting like he’d caught me running a crime syndicate, and all because I’d parked in his precious spot for five minutes.
He shot me one last smug look, then turned and stomped back into his building.
As if on cue, the tow truck pulled into the lot.
Karma on a Silver Platter
The truck rumbled to a stop, and the driver stepped out, shoving his hands into his pockets to ward off the cold. He glanced around the lot, squinting through the falling snow.
“You the one who called for the tow?” he asked, directing the question my way.
Now, sometimes life hands you a moment so perfectly ironic, that you can’t help but embrace it.
This was one of those moments.
Without missing a beat, I smiled and nodded.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I said. “Can you believe someone parked like that on a night like tonight?”
The driver gave me an exhausted, knowing look—one that said he’d been dealing with people like this all winter. “Happens all the time,” he muttered as he pulled out the towing hook.
In no time at all, he had the silver sedan hooked and hoisted, its front wheels dangling off the ground.
Just as he was about to drive off, the condo hero burst out of the building, face contorted with panic.
“Hey! What are you doing? That’s my car!” he shouted, skidding to a stop in the snow.
The tow truck driver didn’t even blink. He gave the man a deadpan look—one that said I get paid either way, buddy.
“Sorry, man,” the driver shrugged. “The request came through. Not much I can do now.”
I stood there, hands tucked in my coat pockets, watching the man’s smug demeanor crumble as he realized what was happening.
He sputtered, pointing at me like he wanted to say something clever, but the words wouldn’t come.
I couldn’t resist a parting shot. “Hey, you might want to worry more about your car than me.”
The man opened his mouth to respond, but it was too late. The tow truck was already pulling away, dragging his car behind it into the snowy night.
I stayed for a moment, watching the silver sedan disappear into the snowy night, wheels dangling from the tow truck like a defeated prize.
The man stood frozen in disbelief, arms raised in frustration, looking like someone who had just realized too late that he’d bet on the wrong horse.
He muttered something under his breath—probably a colorful expression or two—but the battle was over, and all that remained was the walk of shame back to his building.
As the condo door slammed shut behind him, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
Sliding into my car, I felt the quiet satisfaction that only comes from witnessing a perfect twist of fate.
I hadn’t schemed or plotted—sometimes the universe just hands out consequences with impeccable timing.
And tonight? It was a front-row seat to a little poetic justice, courtesy of one very efficient tow truck driver.
Some people insist on making things harder than they need to be.
Me?
I’ll take a clean getaway any day.