Parking Lot Ethics

When I arrived on campus to begin my freshman year at college, I desperately needed money. I was almost penniless. I had a scholarship that would pay for my tuition and dorm fees, but it wouldn’t provide anything for food and books and other stuff. I decided to go see the campus athletic director, to see if he might have a job for me. I don’t recall what inspired me to do this, but it turned out to be a brilliant idea. It just so happened – so the athletic director said – that he did have a little job for me if I wanted it. It was not a full-time job (which I didn’t want anyway), and it was not a permanent job, but I could have it until he said otherwise. The job was selling parking tickets for the home football games.

He gave me a roll of 100 tickets for the first game, and he took me out to see a parking lot. It was a good lot, close to the stadium entrance. It was fenced off by itself, separate and apart from the main stadium parking lot, which was a whole heap bigger than this lot. I was supposed to arrive one hour prior to kickoff time and open the lot. Each ticket was to cost $1.00. He told me if I brought him back $100.00 and 100 ticket stubs on the Monday afternoon following the Saturday night game, he would pay me $5.00. I thought Wow! I can buy four or five meals with that! I thanked him sincerely and took the roll of tickets back to the dorm.

Well, I got to the football stadium on Saturday night of the opening home game, an hour ahead of the scheduled kickoff time. I opened the parking lot and started selling the tickets. Now, you know, when you go somewhere like a movie, you typically buy a ticket at a ticket booth, and then you continue on into the theater and give your ticket to some gate-keeper, who tears the ticket up and gives you the stub. If you think that you might have to leave the movie in the middle and go out past the gate-keeper, then you had better keep the stub, or you won’t be able to get back in. At some places, they won’t let you back in period; for example, most live theaters, but that’s beside the point. In this particular operation, there was only me, and not a one of these hometown fans was likely to leave during the game. Consequently, most of the people driving through just dropped their ticket stubs on the ground within a couple of feet of me.

Now, it might sound easy selling parking lot tickets, but there was more to it than I had previously given much thought to. I kept the roll of tickets in the left hip pocket of my sports coat. I kept the cash in my right pants pocket and my ticket stubs from people I had sold tickets to in the right hip pocket of my sports coat. After I had sold a number of tickets, I started picking up the ticket stubs that people had tossed, and I stuffed them in my left pants pocket. I don’t recall exactly what possessed me to do this, but it turned out to be an unwitting inspiration.

After I had sold all the tickets on the roll, I was still looking at a long line of people who wanted to park, and there was still a lot of vacant space left in the lot. So, I started selling the prior patrons’ ticket stubs from my left pants pocket, and putting the cash into the left breast pocket of my sports coat. (Well, what the hell would you have done?) I kept selling the stubs over and over again like that, until a cop who was covering the lot walked over and told me it was all full now, which it was, and that the kickoff had already occurred (as if I cared!). I had sold something close to 500 tickets, and I was holding the first $100 in my right pants pocket and the remaining $400 or thereabouts in the left breast pocket of my sports coat. I was euphoric. $400 in little more than an hour’s work! (Little did I know at the time that that was the highest hourly rate I would ever make during my entire lifetime!) When I got to my seat in the stadium that my roommate was holding for me, along with our dates, he immediately sensed that something was up, but I gave him the mum’s-the-word sign, and I told him about it later on back at the dorm.

On the following Monday afternoon, I reported to the athletic director as instructed, and I gave him his $100 and the 100 ticket stubs that I had kept in the right pocket of my sports coat. He said good job young fella, and gave me $5.00. He also gave me another roll of 100 tickets for the next game, with the same instructions as before. Well, I continued that gig for three or four home games, until one black Monday afternoon he told me he was sorry, but that one of his football players needed a job and he had to give preference to him. By that time I had made more than $1000 from that job, and my only regret was that it wouldn’t be more.

Back at the dorm, my parking-lot caper became the subject of seemingly endless philosophical debates about the ethics of what I had done. Several of my dorm mates argued that it was highly unethical. I told them they were just envious. I said that if I had not resold the ticket stubs, all those people who had bought them would have had to find other parking places that would have been much farther from the stadium entrance and would have cost more besides.

I also pointed out that most, if not all, of the people I sold tickets to, were avid hometown fans who had probably been parking there for years, so they no doubt knew how big the lot was. If I had closed the gate after selling only 100 tickets, they might have gotten angry; they might have even threatened me physically.

Moreover, I had kept my bargain with the athletic director to a tee. His instructions had been quite specific. Each ticket was to cost $1.00. I was to bring him back $100.00 and 100 ticket stubs, and he would pay me $5.00. That’s exactly what happened.

The athletic director had been there for a long time, and he must surely have known how many cars the lot would hold. Therefore, I figured that the way I “played the game”, so to speak, was the way it was apparently intended to be played. Nobody was cheated out of any money. Nobody paid for anything he didn’t get. I made some money on the deal, and if I could do it again, I would do it again.