Last Friday, after I had parked in one of the lots downtown, I pulled down the driver-side vanity mirror to put on my mascara and noticed that a grey Mustang still had its lights on.
I craned my neck to see if anyone was still in the car, but I couldn't tell. I finished putting on my face and went to check on the car.
Luck would have it that the car still had dealer temporary plates. I called the dealership, described the car and left the VIN number with them. I asked them to call the car's owner and tell them that they left their lights on.
I know what it's like to leave your lights on and end up heading to a dead car at the end of the day. It sucks. It's like the universe took away the one thing you wanted at the end of the day: To blast away all the shit with some Garbage/Avett Brothers/Lenny Kravitz or whatever your tastes are that day. And then there's the tow truck or the wait for a friend to come by and give you a jump.
When I left the office, the grey mustang was already gone. Good for them.