Parking Lot Hierarchy

My apartment complex offers three parking options, varied according to how much money a resident is willing to shell out for parking each month:
For those with too much money on their hands, they have garages.
For those with less money but just as much pride, they have parking shelters.
And for the rest of us, they have plain old parking spaces.

I’m not ashamed to be a parking space dweller, but I can tell the garage & shelter users think I should be. Like the asshole that pays for two shelter spaces and parks in the middle so nobody can get too close to his precious Ford F-150.

On weekday mornings, he and I usually leave our respective apartments at the same time. And every time that I’ve had to scrape my windshield this Winter, he’s been able to just hop into his truck and go. Instead of giving me a sympathetic nod as he passes me, struggling with my ice scraper, he always holds his nose in the air as if to say, “I don’t have to scrape because I have more money than you.”

I hate that guy.

If I really wanted to, I could park under a shelter or maybe even in one of the garages. But Jay and I would rather hang onto that extra money so we can splurge on a nice bottle of wine every now and then or keep our Netflix subscription coming.

That guy sees me freezing my ass off every morning and thinks I’m miserable because I’m poor.
I see him driving off all high and mighty and realize he’s been alone every single time I’ve seen him, even on the weekends.

So which one of us is really richer or poorer?
I guess that all depends on how you look at it.