I must confess that I did lose my temper once a few years ago when this happened to me, in a car park at our local railway station.
I’d been to my best friend’s mother’s funeral two hours away by train, and the ticket seller had helpfully offered to sell me a cheaper ticket when I asked for a ticket to my destination - the only thing he didn’t tell me was that the route he gave me didn’t actually go where I needed to go, so I ended up walking into a funeral 45 minutes late.
Then I got back just in time to go and pick up my kids from school and kindergarten about 10km from the station, with no more money in my wallet for a taxi, as I’d used it all up on a taxi from the wrong station I’d had to get out at thanks to the “helpful” discount ticket I’d been sold.
When I got to the car park, it was snowing, I had high heels and a black dress on, no heavy coat, no money, no cell phone to call the schools to beg a teacher to take the kids, no bank or ATM within walking distance, no time and no patience left. (And my husband was four hours away too…) I was at the end of my tether. I went into the station to ask for help but they told me that the land was not theirs and it was none of their business. The car blocking me in was a little light thing, and they had parked about a foot too tight in a row of three, where the rule is that that you only make rows of two.
I had a roll of sticky paper tape in my car and a marker. I was so angry that I did tape up his window and write “DO NOT BLOCK PEOPLE IN!!!” on it. Then there was nothing for it but to shove him out of the way, because as it was a railway station car park the jerk was probably gone till late that night. (I did wait about 45 minutes but then there simply was no time left.)
My car at the time was a 15 year old MPV, three months before it was going to be sold. The blocking-in car was one of those little plastic runabout things. It didn’t take much to nudge him out of the way but it did scratch his car all down the side. My car also had a smudge of his paint on it but I didn’t care one jot.
My dander was up for the rest of the night, but the next morning and for the next few days I was worried that someone might have seen me, and reported me, or that I’d have an irate owner on my doorstep (unlikely as we lived a good distance from the station and I could have come from anywhere in a large country district, but still…)
I do feel a bit bad about it now but I still don’t know what I could have done to get out of the situation any other way, and he had deliberately blocked me in. So tough.