A "Hypothetical" Run-in

There is a hospital in St. Paul where the dock area is smack up against where they cut the freeway, leaving pretty much no room for anything. I needed to stop there earlier this week, noticing on my way in that the access road, narrow at the best of times, was narrowed further by snow banks and made worse yet by trucks and dumpsters sitting along one side. Most places it was a single lane, and no place to cram in even as tiny a car as mine.

But the dock itself was clear. I parked my car by the steps and proceeded in when an already grumpy fellow insisted I had to move my car. The docks had to be kept open for trucks. When I asked where I was supposed to park it, he snapped that it wasn’t his problem, but I had to move.

After carefully assessing the situation, I relocated my car to the other end of that same dock area, off the other set of steps, but where I was not blocking any part of any access to a truck backing straight in. (If it could, under those tight conditions. But I am in awe of the skill the drivers display in really ugly situations.) As I again left my car, the same grumpy guy lifted up the dock door nearest where I had been parked and gave me a stare, most likely making sure I'd moved. I simply announced to him that I believed I had left room for any hypothetical truck to get in. There were at this time none in the actual dock area. He slammed down the door, after a long look at my car.

I knew part of where I needed to go to make my pick-up, but stopped to ask the woman in the dock office how many floors down I had to go in the freight elevator. I wasn’t sure how many sub-basements this building had. Grumpy was tucked around a corner in this same office, but poked his head out to yell at me, after my smart-assed “hypothetical” comment, why on earth should I expect them to give me any assistance?

Whoa!

I could have said any number of things. “Because it’s your job?” “Sorry you’re having such a tough day/life/whatever.” “Oh, so you actually understood that big word, eh?” “Control freak, much?” But remembering I wore a company’s uniform, I restrained my actions to a cocked eyebrow, a cool stare, and turning to walk towards the freight elevator. I’d figure it out.

About two minutes later, package in hand, I emerged back into daylight to note, once again, that there were no trucks of any kind backed up to any of the dock doors.

Hypothetical indeed!