Fame is Fleeting

There’s a lot of things in this world that I am. But there’s one thing that I am not. Or at least I am no longer.

I am no longer a rock star.

Here’s why. My employer has four reserved (non-handicapped) parking spots up near the front door. Us working grunts refer to these spaces as “rock star parking”, where the rich and famous are allowed to leave their Ferraris, Mercedes, and the occasional Chrysler for the day, without having to hike the usual mile from the regular parking lot.

Well, for the past 3 months I’ve had exclusive use to one of these excellent rock star parking spots. These spots are awarded as “prizes” to employees who have money taken out of their paychecks for the United Way. They randomly pull four names out of the hopper, and those lucky so-and-sos get the Golden Ticket that lets them park nearest to the door.

So how did I get so lucky? I didn’t.

Someone else won it, but didn’t want it. (He parks back by the IT door, nowhere near these spots.) So he gave it to one of my co-workers to use. Only she has a handicap tag, and already gets primo parking year round.

So she gave it to me. Hey, share and share alike!

Anyway, for the past 90 days I’ve been honored (read: lazy) enough to park right up front, just like I own the place. And trust me when I tell you that it was mighty nice to have last February, when it was 20 below.

But my magical parking pass turns back into a pumpkin tonight at midnight, and I’ll have to start parking out in the boondocks with the commoners again. No more luxury. No more prestige. Just the usual 20 mile hike to the front door.

Oh, well – at least it’s not snowing any longer.