I wanted to see the prefabricated housing exhibit so I went down to the MoMA. It was very, very crowded and I didn't see where to get tickets. "No problem!" I thought. "I'll just go ahead and check my bag, which I'll have to do anyway and when I get there I can ask the guy where to get a ticket!" I waited in the coat/bag checking line for 15 minutes. When I finally got to the front I handed you my bag and you handed me a claim number. I then asked you where to get a ticket. You informed me that I couldn't check a bag without a ticket, and I had to go get a ticket then come back. And wait in the line all over. I asked you to please cut me a break. There was no sign explaining this policy, and you wouldn't have even known I didn't have a ticket if I hadn't happened to ask that question. You said, "How do you know I wouldn't have known?" I explained that you hadn't checked to see if anyone in front of me had a ticket. I asked you, "Do you really think I'm trying to pull some kind of bag checking scam on you?" Still polite, I implored you again to please cut me some slack because I didn't want to wait in the line all over again. You told me to keep moving. I hope you enjoy your little power trip. I hope you enjoy pretending to be some kind of authority figure. We both know that you are to much of a stupid jackass to do anything with your life other than hang coats on hooks. But you finally had a tiny, tiny bit of power over someone, for the first time in your meaningless life and you let it all go to your head. Let all that power of being a fucking coat check clerk go to your head, buddy. Maybe someday you could bag groceries.