He thought he'd already been through the worst of it. As a science teacher who is also the Chess Club sponsor, he had little to no patience for a principal who was a former football coach. A principal that the coaches called "Coach" and all the female teachers avoided.
He thought that was the worst.
They'd hired a new principal, a PhD educated elucidate who clearly had no time for sports. She had only been principal two months thus far, and some things were changing that seemed a bit like micromanaging, but nobody called her 'coach', so he felt good.
He pulled his motorcycle into his usual spot, up against the door by the science rooms. He'd been parking there for ten years.
Today, the principal was standing in his spot. Not understanding what was happening, he pulled right up to her, turned off the bike, and removed his helmet.
"You can't park here any more, Glenn," the new principal stated with the flat tone someone who believes everyone else is a moron.
"Why?" he asked, then said "I've been parking here for ten years."
"It's too close to the building. It's a fire code."
"Wasn't it against fire code yesterday? Or two years ago?"
"Just because you did it, doesn't make it right." Again, that horrible bored tone.
The next day, when he pulled in, there were two orange cones and yellow tape over the spot.
Two days later, there were two by fours and poultry wire, clearly setting the stage for a cement block. He looked up to see the principal's face in his classroom window, watching him.
The day after the chicken wire, there was a cement block.
That day, he pulled in, stopped to regard the cement block, looked into his classroom window. He flipped off the face floating there, turned his bike around and rode home.
Two days later, he was hired at the community college.
He parked his bike by the science room doors.
Nobody cared.
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