The reality is humiliation doesn't work to change behavior. But natural consequences do.

Check the law in the area you live. In my city it's against the law to park on the sidewalk portion of the driveway. Take pics and email or snail mail them anonymously to the police. This was the tactic before cell phones, where disability advocates used Polaroids of nondisabled drivers parking in protected parking spots. to document and send in the info to the police or in this case the DOT would also issue tickets, and tickets can be issued by mail. They were glad to do so. Tickets bring in revenue and It took zero work on their part.

To clarify, these are people without proper handicap accessible parking tags. Not just someone who doesn't "look" disabled. There are plenty of invisible disabilities.

It might be tempting to photo a person in a wheelchair or other visible disability being forced out into the street, but in the past they were often given tickets...so it's a bit sticky. I am not sure if that is still the case.

Another problem with the sticker is that it doesn't teach other people:the audience, anything about why it's bad to park there, which is actually very important. Most people just don't know. Or don't think.

Vigilantes generally only accomplish short term attention, whether negative or positive and not change. Advocates both show and tell, must come across as fair and reasonable. It's all a matter of looking inside and ask yourself are you wanting to vent your frustration or put it to work.

Fwiw

Won't it become much less obvious when people are filming via google glass? As recording devices get smaller, and less obtrusive, and turned on without notice, how will we know when we are being recorded? We don't always know when we are right now (by random strangers).

This is a particular concern for women and children, who's everyday, ordinary activities can be sexualized and uploaded to the Internet without their knowledge or consent, even now.

This made me wonder about an NPR story on memory, and research into how people mistakenly remember events that happened to other people, as their own memories, and if there is a connection to that phenomena.

I tried to make a quick search for it, but came up empty.

I wonder if any story lines become unusable, like the example of certain phrases, like "rough day" evolving to not evoke the other brain areas.

Thanks! Yeah, maybe I'd change wiping to tending...

I was thinking about djw's ideas, and going over it in my head off on and on yesterday, and couldn't quite make the change.

It might make it better, but it also changed it into a different poem. And this was the one in me. Though, I don't write poetry and never studied it, so I was afraid it might come off a bit limerick-ish :)

I hide in busy

It's not my fault

I gave life and life is wrought

In feeding and cleaning and tending without end

I didn't want my mother's life

But that is what I got

            Edit: changed the fourth line from wiping to tending

I once was a temp, at a job I had been at like forever, and I still remember that "real" employees got paid to go give blood and temps had to go on our own time. I mean, they always had to do stuff to differentiate. Even that. :/

I've been on the bone marrow registry forever. At the time it was free, I took part of a drive. Then a few years later they were charging people to the costs to get the blood work done etc., which was not inexpensive. I know it does cost money to run such a program but it seemed like a barrier for people. I'd say cut out the quarterly four color glossy newsletters to myself. I hope they changed that policy.

It's tough to add to what's already been said, but one odd habit that pops up now and again, even though it's been a long, long time since I worked as a hostess and a waitress, is looking up when someone comes in a door. It comes from those times when there were lulls between rushes, and no preparations left to do, when we'd gather and talk, usually behind a barrier of some kind. There would always be a straggler group to come in, that wasn't in on that mysterious universal clock everyone else was on (that had nothing to do with time) that created rushes of unknown origin.

The best memories and friends come from the restaurant I worked at the longest, while in college. It was the hot restaurant to go to, at the time. There was a weird kind of pride in that. It was hard to get a job there. Some of the most creative and smart people I had yet to meet, I met there. It was my first contact, right out of high school, with actual artists and writers, theater and film grad students.

Being taken in as one of their own gave me confidence to go from undeclared academic drifter and go all in on art.

My proudest moment was learning to balance the giant trays, and be able to move quickly and seamlessly around the chaos with them fully loaded.

I also took a lot of dance classes back then, so busy Friday and Saturday nights felt like a kind of ballet. But a common work dream was not of dance but war. Our restaurant combined into an old WWII movie, and between bombings and bullets we kept our stations running.

And nothing beat the beer afterwards, or the banter in between.

Thank you for hubski!

Nice!

My only suggestions would be that it be printed in the gray color of hubski rather than black... And use the exact typeface used here.