Must be mellowing in the Autumn of my career
The biddy—–“Hey, you! What do you think you’re doing on my lawn? Hey, you! Did you hear me?”
Me—–(saying nothing staring at the ground while waving the big yellow stick)
The biddy—–“HEY, YOU! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”
Me—–(apparently deaf as there is no indication that I have heard anything)
The biddy (as she approaches)—–“HEY, YOU!!!!!!!!!”
Me (as I slowly turn towards her and act surprised to see anyone there)—–“Oh, hi. Lovely morning, isn’t it.”
The biddy—–“Why are you on my lawn?”
Me—–“I’m not on your lawn, Ma’am. I happen to be standing in the street attempting to find the point where this street meets up with that street over there. There is a survey bar there that must be found so we can establish some property lines in that block (pointing to the northeast).”
The biddy—–“Oh, so who are you working for?”
Me—–“The school district, Ma’am. They intend to build a new house or two to replace the ratty old rat traps that used to be a blight on your neighborhood.”
Me—–“Oh, looky there. Just what I was looking for. That was fortunate. Well, time to go over there (pointing to the northwest) and find some more survey bars. Have a nice day.”
The biddy ( as she stomps off towards her house)—–“grumblegrumblegrumblegrumblegrumblegrumble”
I was truly happy she didn’t recognize me. She had hired me about 10 years ago to survey her property because she was fighting with the city and the school district over spectators parking their vehicles along HER streets to get to the hometown football games. She thought she owned everything up to the edge of the pavement, which the survey proved was not true and a figment of her imagination. As the survey did not give her the answer she wanted she thought she would not need to pay me. WRONG! I sued her little butt in Small Claims Court. She was so embarrassed (as the small town newspaper printed the upcoming court docket) that she paid me before the court date and included enough to cover the filing fee to make sure I wouldn’t follow through.
When she started bellering, what I really wanted to do and say should not be written on a family-friendly internet site. All of those words and dreams of committing vile acts did run through my head, though. Thirty years ago I would not have been so kind to her as I tricked her into letting me find what I was seeking. I also was kind enough to not inform her that her new driveway was actually on her neighbor’s property.
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