Getting Screwed (Small-Time, not Fun-Time)

Yesterday turned out to be one of those days.

I came out of my apartment to find a parking ticket on the windshield of my car. This was kind of surprising, as I hadn’t violated any parking regulation except the one that I violate every day, five days a week, and which is never enforced, namely, 4 Hour Max Parking on my block. But that was exactly what the ticket was for.

The problem with that is that there’s a kind of Catch-22 with my street parking situation. Residents of my block of 9th Street NW aren’t given Residential Parking Permits (RPPs) because they’re not required to park on the 1500 block of 9th Street. But technically we can’t really use 9th Street for parking, because it has the 4 hour maximum parking. But we can’t petition to get RPP for our block, because it’s a secondary arterial, and according to the person I spoke with at the DMV, arterials aren’t permitted to have Residential Parking. Alice in Wonderland? You bet.

So I immediately walked the mile or so to the District’s Parking Adjudication center, and waited my turn for a hearing. The Hearing Officer was immensely sympathetic, but of course, had to follow the law. So she upheld my $20 ticket, and suggested I speak with my city councilman about trying to get the RPP policy changed. Of course, the logical thing would be for the city to issue RPP permits to everyone within in an RPP neighborhood, not just those who live on an RPP block — so that’s what I’m going to call my councilman and ask for. I have a feeling I’m about to get a lesson in local politics.

The other piss-off experience came a little later in the day, when I finally reconciled the checking statement that’s been sitting on my desk for a couple of weeks. I discovered to my horror that, in early December, a cashier at the Giant supermarket who was struggling with my ATM card had actually triple charged me for a whole card full of groceries (plus cash). I’d been overcharged more than $270! So with my bank statement in hand, I headed down to the Giant, only to be told that nothing could be done until the accountant came in at 4 a.m. “Call her in the morning,” the manager told me.

So that’s what I did this morning. Of course, the accountant had not come in today. But I managed to get ahold of the morning store manager, who was sympathetic to my plight and took the matter in hand. He got on the phone with corporate customer assistance and stuck it out until the problem was resolved. I’m supposed to go down there later today to pick up documentation that the money was refunded.

Just another day in the life, I guess. But I feel better venting.

Oh yeah. Another reason to feel better: Cherrod and I have another date tonight.

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