Twice in the last week I’ve been running for my car as the parking cop wrote a ticket for the car next to mine. Both times I’ve politely asked if it was too late, very consciously promising myself that I wouldn’t lose my shit with someone just doing their job. And both times the cop graciously let me go, though I’m convinced I would have dealt with it gracefully if they said no dice (at least until I made it back to my office for a wailing and gnashing of teeth session in the bathroom.)But the first time, I wasn’t the only one running for the cop, the guy with the car in front of mine was too and as soon as he got there he totally cursed the cop out. Bad form–he got a ticket.