As a foreman, I’ve seen a lot in 20 years of construction, but never anyone quite like the mom who rolled into our no-parking zone like rules were for other people. When I politely asked her to move, she asked me to “deal with it.” I just smiled and karma handled the rest minutes later.
I’m Bob and I’m 40 years old. I’m a foreman for a construction crew bustin’ our backs building a house halfway up Mount Hellscape. Okay, not a real mountain, but 250 feet up a narrow footpath sure feels like one when you’re hauling plywood on your shoulder in the July heat.
A construction foreman at work | Source: Midjourney
The only break we get? Two sacred parking spots at the bottom of the hill, marked clear as day: No Parking. Tow Away Zone.
Those two spots are our only shot at keeping deliveries running halfway smooth.
A ‘No Parking’ sign | Source: Pexels
“Bob!” my buddy Mike called from the scaffolding. “Jerry’s on the phone. Says the lumber delivery’s coming early.”
I wiped the sweat from my brow and grabbed my cell. “Jerry? How far out are you, pal?”
“Three minutes tops, man. Got your roof trusses and everything else on the manifest.”
“I’ll clear the loading zone. See you in three.”
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