Take your car into a mall, movie theatre, hotel or absolutely any other business that doesn't believe in wasting space on parking for its customers, and almost immediately a new breed of service providers loom large in your windscreen.
They are called valets, though I believe that 'parking consultants' will be the norm in future. Now I'm allergic to letting some bloke with dubious driving skills have a go at my dream boat.
Why?
Do I want it driven off like the route was Paris-Dakar, as soon as my back was turned?
Do I want its gear box to croak in protest, as it is put through the paces by someone who could have been a wrestler if he weren't trying to be a driver?
Do I want to wonder where my car will be parked when clearly the lot looked stuffed to the gills?
Do I want to puzzle over what "PARKING AT OWNERS' RISK" means when somebody else has the key?
Do you?
Some ads. Some by me. Some by friends. Some songs. One things-to-do list, which I haven't done anything about. And then a look at things happening around me. The funny side.
Showing posts with label valet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label valet. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Valet 'Illatha' Parking
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)