I had just dumped off the kids in front of the gym for the divisional finals that our v-ball team at Auburn Senior High had made it to. It was pouring.
So I gave Jennifer my last $6 and some change and drove the car to the back 40 of the parking lot. And walked to the front door again, semi-wet. And there was the sign, no checks allowed. Great, I had $4.50 and the cell phone wasn't connecting inside the gym.
"I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do," said sportsnazi mom. "I have to have cash or nothing."
"Oh common," I protested. By then the rain was coming down in sideways sheets. "I'd have to go out through THAT, and all I need is to go through and find my daughter inside. I promise I'm good for the $7"
"Nope, nothing I can do."
I should have just barged in and forced her to call the sports police, but I went out to the car, out to the nearby story, got the bank machine to cough up $40 and went back. By this time everything was fairly damp to soaking wet, including the $20 bill I threw at the sportsnazi.
"Listen, here's your money, but you could have just let me in so I wouldn't have to get soaking wet," I shouted at her. I'd already missed most of the Auburn match.
"Sorry, nothing I can do."
"Fine, since that's all you seem to be able to say, give me my damn ticket and change," I said as I thrust a soggy sleeve through the window.
But her sportnazi ways didn't end there. She kept shooing people away from the entrances, saying there was plenty of room in the bleachers (there wasn't) and that she was sorry, she HAD to say this.
Then she told one of the teams, no there wasn't any more chairs for their team to sit in, and that was the rules. The asst. coaches ended up sitting in the bleachers to make room. And she went by at least once, making sure the back of the chairs all lined up perfectly on the black line between the bleachers and the v-ball court.
Okay, obviously it wasn't just me.
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