It's coming.
Halloween. The time for ghoulish fun, spooky antics and of course, dressing up like a slut with the excuse of “hey, it’s just a costume, okay?!” But who is it that deserves the coveted title of “all-around scariest person?” Who would you most not like to meet up with in a corn maze? Witches, warlocks, vampires (Edwin excluded of course, ladies!) goblins, zombies, ghosts, possessed demon children, escaped psych ward inmates, men with chainsaws? Ha! These folks might as well be the Easter bunny! For there is no doubt that the scariest, most chilling, bloodcurdling, send-shivers-down-your-spi
BYU PARKING ENFORCEMENT.
Okay, okay. So it’s not really a “person” so to speak. It’s an entity . . . but the fact that there’s dozens of them working together makes them all the more terrifying! Driving around in their oh-so-tough Jeeps with “PARKING ENFORCEMENT” prominently displayed to instill terror into all those who dare park in an “A” lot! The grating chssssiicck sound that rattles the air as they tear off a page in their citation notepad! Those menacing neon green envelopes that have the power to suck every iota of joy from your soul!
Today, I did the unthinkable. I voluntarily visited the University Police and Campus Parking office. After a few minutes of deep breathing and a tranquilizer shot, I entered the lion’s den. I felt like a Roman gladiator stepping into the Coliseum: convinced of impending doom, but having the faintest hope that I might merely be ripped to bloody shreds and allowed to live a limbless life, begging in the gutters of the city for sustenance all the rest of my days.
I beheld my lion: a rather large girl sitting at the counter under a “PARKING” sign. I had come prepared for an epic battle: obtaining parking registration for my newly-acquired moped.
“Hi,” I said meekly, “I just got a moped, and I was wondering there’s any sort of registration I need for it.”
She looked at me with disdainful apathy, cocked an eyebrow and said, with the slightest “oh-no-you-di’nt!” head bob:
“To drive it legally in the state of Utah? Yes.”
I waited for a “Haha! Just kidding! I knew you weren’t ask me that! As a matter of fact you do need parking registration for a moped...” or something of the sort. But no. Apparently she thought I had the IQ of a brick and was coming to her to legally register my vehicle.
Hmmm don’t you think that if I needed to legally register my moped I would go to, oh, I don’t know...the DMV?? Hmmm I wonder what I type of registration I’m referring to when I’m standing in the University Police and Campus Parking office under the “PARKING” sign! Maybe PARKING REGISTRATION, perhaps?!
“Ummm no,” I replied, “ . . . I already have that . . . I meant parking registration. To park it on campus.”
“Ooooh.” (As if I should have had to clarify!) She rolled her eyes. “In that case, blah blah blah . . .”
Ahh just another example of the unhelpfulness that embodies BYU student employees! This case is an especially illustrative one because she gave me the classic I-work-for-BYU-and-know-
everything-and-you-don't attitude! And made a fool of herself in doing so! Love it! Perhaps though, as a minor suggestion, when BYU trains their student employees they might consider imbuing them with common sense and congeniality. Yes, yes. I believe that would prove beneficial to all parties involved.
I made it out of that office unscathed (save a slight insult to my intellect). It’s nice to know that I’ve officially survived the worst that Halloween has to offer. And the best part is that it didn’t cost me a cent! No ten-dollar corn mazes, haunted houses, creepy train rides, etc. Just a brief head-to-head with a BYU parking employee. Maybe next Halloween I’ll stand outside the office and charge admission? Then I could pay off my tickets for parking in the “A” lots.
Halloween. The time for ghoulish fun, spooky antics and of course, dressing up like a slut with the excuse of “hey, it’s just a costume, okay?!” But who is it that deserves the coveted title of “all-around scariest person?” Who would you most not like to meet up with in a corn maze? Witches, warlocks, vampires (Edwin excluded of course, ladies!) goblins, zombies, ghosts, possessed demon children, escaped psych ward inmates, men with chainsaws? Ha! These folks might as well be the Easter bunny! For there is no doubt that the scariest, most chilling, bloodcurdling, send-shivers-down-your-spi
BYU PARKING ENFORCEMENT.
Okay, okay. So it’s not really a “person” so to speak. It’s an entity . . . but the fact that there’s dozens of them working together makes them all the more terrifying! Driving around in their oh-so-tough Jeeps with “PARKING ENFORCEMENT” prominently displayed to instill terror into all those who dare park in an “A” lot! The grating chssssiicck sound that rattles the air as they tear off a page in their citation notepad! Those menacing neon green envelopes that have the power to suck every iota of joy from your soul!
Today, I did the unthinkable. I voluntarily visited the University Police and Campus Parking office. After a few minutes of deep breathing and a tranquilizer shot, I entered the lion’s den. I felt like a Roman gladiator stepping into the Coliseum: convinced of impending doom, but having the faintest hope that I might merely be ripped to bloody shreds and allowed to live a limbless life, begging in the gutters of the city for sustenance all the rest of my days.
I beheld my lion: a rather large girl sitting at the counter under a “PARKING” sign. I had come prepared for an epic battle: obtaining parking registration for my newly-acquired moped.
“Hi,” I said meekly, “I just got a moped, and I was wondering there’s any sort of registration I need for it.”
She looked at me with disdainful apathy, cocked an eyebrow and said, with the slightest “oh-no-you-di’nt!” head bob:
“To drive it legally in the state of Utah? Yes.”
I waited for a “Haha! Just kidding! I knew you weren’t ask me that! As a matter of fact you do need parking registration for a moped...” or something of the sort. But no. Apparently she thought I had the IQ of a brick and was coming to her to legally register my vehicle.
Hmmm don’t you think that if I needed to legally register my moped I would go to, oh, I don’t know...the DMV?? Hmmm I wonder what I type of registration I’m referring to when I’m standing in the University Police and Campus Parking office under the “PARKING” sign! Maybe PARKING REGISTRATION, perhaps?!
“Ummm no,” I replied, “ . . . I already have that . . . I meant parking registration. To park it on campus.”
“Ooooh.” (As if I should have had to clarify!) She rolled her eyes. “In that case, blah blah blah . . .”
Ahh just another example of the unhelpfulness that embodies BYU student employees! This case is an especially illustrative one because she gave me the classic I-work-for-BYU-and-know-
everything-and-you-don't attitude! And made a fool of herself in doing so! Love it! Perhaps though, as a minor suggestion, when BYU trains their student employees they might consider imbuing them with common sense and congeniality. Yes, yes. I believe that would prove beneficial to all parties involved.
I made it out of that office unscathed (save a slight insult to my intellect). It’s nice to know that I’ve officially survived the worst that Halloween has to offer. And the best part is that it didn’t cost me a cent! No ten-dollar corn mazes, haunted houses, creepy train rides, etc. Just a brief head-to-head with a BYU parking employee. Maybe next Halloween I’ll stand outside the office and charge admission? Then I could pay off my tickets for parking in the “A” lots.
Have mercy on my soul, I beg of you!!
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