Fight with Meter Maid as Seen from One Block Away

So, I'm walking Lando and it's a street cleaning day which means that there are almost no cars parked on the side of the street we are coming down. About a half a block up, I see the dreaded LA DOT parking Prius next to a car which, once I walked up next to it, I would be able to see was a silver Mercedes wagon.

Next to the cars was a half-bald white dude in sweat pants arguing a black lady, the parking ticket giver, who wore black hipster glasses and had her hair back in a neat bun. Their interaction looked like it had been planned by someone directing a movie where they new no sound would be used in the final cut:

He waves his arms emphatically and angrily, points at her.

She points at the sign and shakes her head.

He waves his arms again in frustration.

She shrugs and points at the sign again.

He points to the sign and puts his hands in the air: "Well, where am I supposed to park?"

She makes a gesture, pointing around the coner.

The whole thing was pretty entertaining in that shadenfruede sort of way, but I guess I shouldn't feel too bad since the guy was making his misery extremely public. It's funny because, as I don't have a parking spot, parking can, at times, be a major sorce of stress in my life, so I should've probably taken this guy's side. I mean, where the hell are you supposed to park on a street cleaning day? What, I can't leave my car here for like FIVE SECONDS and grab a newspaper? Do you get off on this sort of thing?

But the human was actually NOT me, which, of course, made it FUNNY. It's like a scientific equation: Pain + someone else = humor. I think I'm stealing that from somewhere... but in any case, not only was it not me, but this guy was like totally losing his shit while the neat-bun black lady was totally keeping it together and not letting him ruffle her. And I have thought this before: Man, that job must suuuuuuuuck. I think of all the times I got shit from people when I was working at Starbucks or Ann Taylor just for stupid things: Why did my friend get more foam in her cappuccino? Why are the ugly green pants on sale but the pretty tan pants not on sale? (Guess why: Because no one wants the ugly green pants!)And these attacks are always personal, like I had some sort of say in which colors Ann Taylor puts on sale which week. Like they even let me decide what mannequinne gets to wear which pants. I can only put my favorite necklace on a mannequinne if we are sold out of the necklace shown in the picture and it is an acceptable substitution.

Anyway. I can't deal with stupid arguments about foam and clothing - there's no way in HELL I could ever deal with people EVERY DAY getting in my face about me giving them a ticket for something they are obviously in the wrong about. No way. That has to be on list of Most Stressful Jobs Ever, right up there with air traffic controller and person who does surgery on rich people's dogs. So yeah, kudos to you, black lady with glasses and hair bun.

That still doesn't mean I'm not going to be furious at you the next time I get a parking ticket.