I wasn't wrong

So, as I've said, I don't want to deal with valets. I have a lot of trouble feeling superior to them, and that's kind of a necessary emotional buffer zone.

But I need to take these letters to the post office, and I need to go buy milk. So I go down and ask the lady working the front desk to have somebody send up my car, and I tell her my apartment number. I check my mail, get my health insurance card, and go back up to my room. A minute later, somebody knocks on the door. I haven't had anybody knock on my door yet, and it really freaked me out. I open the door, and there's a guy standing there with a cart.

"They said you needed a cart?"


"They said you needed a cart."

"No, I needed my car."

"Oh, they got it mixed up."

I laughed and apologized for the inconvenience as he walked away.

I just want my car!

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