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, a knowing smile, and karma handled the rest mere minutes later, in a way that was almost poetic in its swiftness.

Have you ever had one of those days when someone else's entitled attitude becomes your unexpected entertainment? Let me tell you about my morning. I've genuinely never seen karma work so fast... or hit so hard. It was a spectacle to behold, a real-life lesson unfolding right before our eyes.

I'm Robert, and I'm 40 years old. I'm a foreman for a construction crew busting 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. The air is thick, the sun beats down, and every step feels like a monumental effort.

A construction foreman at work | Source: Midjourney We've been working this gig for weeks now. There's no road to the build site. Just a footpath, winding and uneven. That means every damn board, beam, pipe, and nail has to be lugged uphill by hand. It's a grueling process, testing our endurance and patience daily.

The only break we get? Two sacred parking spots at the bottom of the hill, marked clear as day: No Parking. Tow Away Zone. These signs aren't suggestions; they're vital for the smooth operation of our work.

A 'No Parking' sign | Source: Pexels "Robert!" my buddy Michael called from the scaffolding, his voice echoing down the slope. "Jerry's on the phone. Says the lumber delivery's coming early."

I wiped the sweat from my brow, the grit stinging my eyes, 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. This load is huge, by the way."

"I'll clear the loading zone. See you in three."

A construction foreman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney I pocketed my phone and started down the narrow dirt path that connected our hilltop site to civilization. Each step down was a small reprieve, knowing the climb back up would be twice as taxing.

As the path curved, offering a brief view of the street below, I caught sight of a gleaming white SUV parked squarely in one of our spots. Through the windshield, I could make out a woman texting intently on her phone, the engine idling, a plume of exhaust subtly wafting in the still morning air.

I felt the familiar twitch in my jaw. The elementary school half a block away meant we dealt with this at least twice daily – parents in a rush, disregarding the clearly marked signs. Usually, a polite request was enough. Usually. But not always, and something about the way this SUV was parked, so deliberately in the center of the zone, set my teeth on edge.

Kids in an elementary school | Source: Pexels "Excuse me, ma'am," I called, approaching her driver's side window with what I hoped was a friendly expression, despite the rising annoyance. "You're parked in our construction loading zone. We've got a lumber delivery arriving any minute now. It's a very large truck and needs the space."

She glanced up from her phone, her brow furrowed as if I were interrupting something incredibly important. The window descended halfway with a slow, reluctant hum.

"I'll just be a few minutes," she said, barely looking at me, her attention already drifting back to her screen. "Your truck isn't even here. Take a chill pill, dude."

The window hummed back up, sealing her off and ending the conversation as far as she was concerned. I couldn't believe her audacity.

A furious woman sitting in her car | Source: Midjourney "Ma'am, please—" I started again, my voice gaining a sharper edge, but the rumble of a heavy engine cut me off. The distinct sound of a large diesel truck approaching was unmistakable.

Jerry's massive delivery truck appeared around the corner, its sheer size emphasizing the absurdity of the parked SUV. It was loaded high with enough lumber to frame our entire roof, the straps groaning slightly under the weight. I waved him forward, pointing to our predicament seated stubbornly in the car.

I knocked on the lady's window again, this time with less patience. After several firm taps, it lowered halfway once more.

"WHAT?" she snapped, her voice laced with irritation.

"The delivery truck is here," I explained, making a conscious effort to keep my voice calm and even. "You're parked in a clearly marked no-parking zone. We really need you to move now. He can't maneuver with you there."

A lumber truck on the street | Source: Midjourney She looked past me at Jerry's idling truck, its size now undeniable, then back to me with narrowed eyes, a flicker of defiance in her gaze.

"Can't you guys just unload around me? Like, what's the big deal? It's not that hard. Just be creative."

The window went up again, leaving me speechless. My customer service smile, which was already strained, completely froze on my face. The audacity was truly astounding.

"Fine," I muttered under my breath, turning and walking away towards the approaching truck. "We'll work around you."

"What's the plan, Robert?" Jerry asked, leaning out his window, a mixture of curiosity and exasperation on his face as he watched me approach.

A slow smile, a plan forming in my mind, spread across my face. "She wants us to work around her. Let's do exactly that."

Jerry's eyes lit up with understanding, a grin mirroring my own. "Say no more!" He was clearly on board with this approach.

A smiling truck driver | Source: Midjourney "Pull in as close to her driver's side as you legally can," I instructed, my voice calm but firm. "Leave her just enough room to maybe squeeze out if she's a contortionist. Let's see how she likes being boxed in between you and the porta-potty." I gestured to the blue plastic structure a few feet away.

Jerry nodded, expertly maneuvering his truck with practiced precision. He angled the large vehicle, backing in slowly, until the side of his truck was mere inches from the driver's side door of the white SUV. With the porta-potty on one end and a legally parked car (ironically, belonging to one of our crew who had arrived earlier) on the other, our entitled mom was now completely and utterly boxed in.

"Perfect," I said, unable to suppress my grin. The satisfaction was palpable.

"She looks mad," Jerry chuckled, glancing in his side mirror, a hint of mischievous amusement in his eyes.

A white car trapped between a truck and a porta-potty | Source: Midjourney "Let's start unloading. I'll make a call." I pulled out my phone again.

"Who ya calling?" Jerry asked, already lowering the truck gate with a mechanical whir.

"Parking enforcement. Just to cover our bases and document the situation."

"Robert!" someone shouted from up the hill. I turned to see the rest of my crew arriving to help with the unloading, their figures silhouetted against the morning sky.

"Let's move, guys! We've got a roof to build!" I yelled back, the urgency of the task momentarily overshadowing the parking drama.

As my crew began the backbreaking process of hauling the heavy lumber up the hill, their grunts and strained movements a testament to the effort involved, I noticed significant movement in the SUV. Our entitled mom had finally realized her predicament. I could see her gesturing wildly on her phone, occasionally shooting daggers at me with her eyes, her frustration radiating through the glass.

An annoyed woman talking on the phone while seated in her car | Source: Midjourney "The parking officer said she'll be here in about 30 minutes," I told Jerry as we supervised the initial stages of the unloading, making sure the right materials were being moved first.

"That long?" Jerry sighed, then brightened. "Well, we'll still be here. This is at least an hour's job, maybe more with this much lumber."

---

Twenty minutes into our unloading, the rhythmic thud of wood hitting the ground filling the air, a small boy in a bright blue backpack hesitantly approached the SUV, tapping gently on the passenger window. He looked confused and a little worried.

Entitled mom had finally realized the sheer impossibility of exiting through her driver's side door. We watched, a silent audience to her struggle, as she awkwardly and ungracefully climbed across the center console, her movements clumsy and rushed. She eventually tumbled out the passenger side in a less-than-graceful heap, her composure completely shattered.

A boy with a backpack | Source: Pexels "Mommy, why are you coming out that way?" the boy asked loudly enough for us to hear, his innocent question highlighting the absurdity of the situation.

"Because these IDIOTS blocked me in," she hissed, straightening her designer blouse, which was now slightly askew, while glaring venomously in our direction. She quickly ushered her son into the back seat, her movements jerky and agitated, then stormed over to where Jerry and I stood checking off inventory items on a clipboard.

"I need to leave NOW!" she demanded, her voice shrill and laced with fury, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Move. Your. Truck."

I opened my mouth to respond, to reiterate our earlier polite request, but Jerry beat me to it, his tone deliberately slow and exaggeratedly polite.

"Ma'am, in order to unload the lumber safely and efficiently, we had to unstrap it," he explained with exaggerated patience, emphasizing each word. "Company policy strictly prohibits moving the truck with an unsecured load. Safety regulations, you see. I'm sure you understand the importance of that, especially with people working nearby."

Her face flushed crimson, her eyes blazing with indignation. "Trash your policy! I have somewhere to be! This is holding me up!"

A furious woman yelling | Source: Midjourney "We asked you nicely to move earlier, ma'am," I reminded her, my voice calm but firm, holding her gaze. "You told us to work around you. That's exactly what we're doing. We're simply following your instructions."

"This is ridiculous! Unbelievable! I'm going to report both of you! You'll be sorry for this!" she threatened, her voice rising to a near-shout.

At that precise moment, as if orchestrated by fate itself, a parking enforcement vehicle pulled up slowly behind Jerry's truck, its flashing lights a silent beacon. Officer Martinez stepped out, her demeanor professional and her clipboard held firmly in hand.

The entitled mom, completely consumed by her own rage, hadn't noticed the new arrival yet. She was too busy jabbing her finger in my direction, her face contorted with fury.

A female police officer | Source: Pexels "I swear to God, if you don't move this truck right now—" she continued her tirade, oblivious to the approaching officer.

I couldn't resist the perfect opportunity. "Can't you just pull out around it, ma'am? It's not that hard. Just be creative." The irony hung heavy in the air.

Her eyes widened in disbelief as she finally recognized her own dismissive words thrown back at her. The look on her face, a mixture of shock and dawning horror, was worth every single second of this increasingly bizarre confrontation.

"Screw you!" she spat, her composure completely gone, spinning on her heel and marching back to her SUV with an air of furious determination.

Officer Martinez approached us, her eyebrows raised in silent inquiry. "Morning, Robert. Got your call about the parking situation. Looks like things have escalated a bit."

Before I could fully explain the chain of events, the sudden roar of an engine drew our attention back to the white SUV. The entitled mom had climbed back into her vehicle through the passenger door, the engine revving loudly, and abruptly thrown it into reverse.

"Oh no!" Jerry murmured, a look of horrified anticipation on his face.

An angry woman sitting in her car | Source: Midjourney The SUV jumped backward like a spooked goat on roller skates, the tires screeching against the asphalt, and plowed straight into our poor, unsuspecting porta-potty. The flimsy structure tumbled over with a sickening crunch, farted out a splash of blue goo and various unmentionables, and lay there on its side like it desperately needed a very long lie-down.

"Holy cow!" I breathed, utterly stunned by the sheer audacity and stupidity of her actions.

The entitled mom, seemingly unfazed by the destruction she had just caused, shifted the SUV into drive and accelerated sharply toward the curb, apparently attempting a desperate, ill-conceived maneuver to mount the sidewalk and escape her self-made prison. The SUV made it halfway up the curb with a jarring thud before getting stuck, its wheels spinning uselessly in the air and the engine screaming in protest.

Officer Martinez, who had witnessed the entire spectacle, was already running toward the vehicle, her voice sharp and commanding. "TURN OFF YOUR ENGINE! NOW!"

The woman froze, finally noticing the uniformed officer standing beside her open passenger door. The color drained from her face as the full weight of her actions, and the presence of law enforcement, finally registered.

A lady cop talking to someone | Source: Pexels "Step out of the vehicle, ma'am," Officer Martinez ordered, her hand now resting on her radio. Her tone left no room for argument.

"I... these men trapped me," she stammered, her voice trembling slightly as she reluctantly emerged from the passenger side, her earlier arrogance completely vanished.

"Hands where I can see them." Officer Martinez's voice was firm and unwavering.

"My son is in the car," the woman said, her voice laced with a newfound panic.

"I'm aware. That's going to be an additional concern." Officer Martinez spoke calmly and professionally into her radio, requesting backup and mentioning the child in the vehicle.

A startled woman in her car | Source: Midjourney Within minutes, the scene was swarming with flashing blue and red lights. Our entitled mom was sitting on the curb in handcuffs, her indignation replaced by a look of utter panic and dawning realization of the trouble she was in. Her son watched wide-eyed and silent from the back seat as a second police car arrived, sirens wailing in the distance.

"She told us to work around her," Jerry explained to the second officer, a tall, no-nonsense looking man named Rodriguez, gesturing towards the strategically parked truck and the demolished porta-potty. "So we did."

"Then she decided to take matters into her own hands," I added, gesturing to the destroyed porta-potty and the SUV still perched precariously on the curb, its tires spinning uselessly.

"I never refused to move!" she shouted from her less-than-comfortable curb seat, her voice tinged with desperation. "They never even asked me properly!"

Officer Martinez shook her head, a hint of disbelief in her expression. "Ma'am, they called parking enforcement when you first refused to move. That's why I'm here. We have a record of the call."

A police officer handing a violation ticket | Source: Pexels "This is all a misunderstanding. A big misunderstanding! I was just quickly picking up my son. It was only for a minute!" she pleaded, her story changing rapidly.

"In a clearly marked no-parking zone," Officer Rodriguez noted dryly, writing diligently in his notepad, documenting every detail. "And then she operated that vehicle recklessly with a child inside, causing property damage."

The woman's shoulders slumped in defeat, her earlier defiance completely gone.

"Home telephone number?" Officer Rodriguez asked the boy gently. "We need to call someone to pick you up, okay?"

As Jerry signed off on his delivery paperwork, a look of grim satisfaction on his face, and prepared to finally leave the chaotic scene, the tow truck arrived to winch the stubbornly stuck SUV off the curb. The entitled mom was being helped, none too gently, into the back of Officer Rodriguez's patrol car, all fight gone from her posture.

An officer watching a person being escorted toward a cruiser | Source: Pexels "Driving on a suspended license too," Officer Martinez informed me with a sigh as she finished her report, shaking her head at the sheer volume of violations. "Plus child endangerment, destruction of property, and reckless driving. She'll be spending more than a few minutes dealing with this. This is going to be a long and expensive lesson for her."

I watched as an older woman, presumably the boy's Grandma, arrived to collect him, her face tight with worry and a weary resignation, as if this wasn't the first time she'd been called to clean up her daughter's mess. The cycle of entitlement, it seemed, had consequences that extended beyond just one person.

That evening, as the sun painted the sky in hues of orange and purple over our half-built house on the hilltop, I sat on a stack of newly delivered lumber, the scent of fresh pine filling the air, nursing a cold coke with my crew. The day's drama was still fresh in our minds.

"You should've seen her face when you threw her own words back at her," Jerry laughed, cracking open another can with a satisfying hiss. "Priceless! Absolutely priceless!"

A man laughing while holding a can of beverage | Source: Midjourney "I almost felt bad," I admitted, a small pang of something akin to pity fleetingly crossing my mind. "Almost."

"Don't, buddy. Some people need to learn the hard way. And she definitely earned this lesson."

"What was the damage on the porta-potty?" someone asked, a hint