The Dignified Man

It was one of those classic bad days. I was a few steps behind from the minute I got up and had a meeting downtown at 10. I hit traffic, per usual, and then couldn’t find a parking spot. When I finally did, I was already late. Knowing I had to walk at least 6 blocks in heels, I was rushing to pay the meter. That’s when I first met him.

He was friendly, walked up to me and asked if I had some spare change to help pay for a cup of coffee. I did so I handed him 4 quarters. He asked if I was okay with the meter and if I knew how to work it, I responded I did and I punched the meter up before running down the street to my meeting.

I sat in the big office with a dignified man for over an hour and a half. It wasn’t a happy meeting where we decided goals, where I was empowered and ready to take everything on. It was exactly the opposite, where my dreams felt tiny and squished and by the end I felt like giving up.

I made my way back down to the lobby and trudged the 6 blocks back to my car. I felt small and sad.

As I stood waiting to cross the street, I saw her. The Parking Enforcement Officer. She stopped and noticed my meter had gone over time. Not even thinking I ran out in front of traffic, getting honked at because obviously people in Atlanta don’t notice a girl in distress when they see one. That’s when I saw him again. The man I’d given money to. He was haggling her, trying to convince her to not give me a ticket and tried to tell her to forget it as he put more change in the meter. When I looked at the time expired, I knew he’d been keeping an eye on it the whole time I was gone, adding money as needed.

She gave me a ticket anyway. The whole time, he was telling her to double check and tell her not to worry about the meter and let me go. I stood there, letting him try, to no avail, to fight her on it. He walked away to get a free lunch from one of the organizations down town, I climbed in my car and started to drive away. I saw him on the side of the road waving his arms and shaking his head telling me that it wasn’t right how she treated me. 

I looked back at him, Styrofoam to-go lunch and a jacket he probably hadn’t washed in weeks and realized the juxtaposition of that moment. This man who many may consider at the bottom of society is in fact the one person that day who treated me with the most dignity. Not the dignified man with a fancy office or the meter maid who has a job and probably a warm shower, but the man who asked me for change for a cup of coffee and instead used it to keep my meter running.