I realized I’d become a parking spot person during a Thursday afternoon existential crisis at Trader Joe’s. Not the fun kind of crisis where you question whether to try the Everything But The Bagel ice cream, but the kind where you circle the lot three times because someone’s Subaru is in “your” spot—the third space from the cart return, driver’s side facing the hedge.

Standing there, irrationally irritated by this stranger’s audacity to park in a public space, I had to ask myself: When did I become someone with a designated spot at every location in my life? More importantly, what does this say about me beyond the obvious “wow, you need a hobby” conclusion?

Turns out, the parking spot people—those of us who’ve somehow assigned ourselves permanent spaces in public lots—aren’t just creatures of habit. We’re walking case studies in how humans create order from chaos, one self-imposed parking assignment at a time. After months of observing my own behavior and recognizing fellow spot-devotees by their telltale circling patterns, I’ve noticed we share certain traits that go way beyond simple routine preference.

1. You’ve turned satisficing into an art form

The economist Herbert Simon coined “satisficing”—a portmanteau of satisfy and suffice—to describe the decision-making strategy of settling for “good enough” rather than optimizing for the absolute best. Parking spot people have elevated this concept to near-spiritual practice.

We’ve done the calculations once: this spot is close enough to the entrance, far enough from the cart return chaos, unlikely to get door dings, and provides a straight shot to the exit. Decision made, case closed, mental energy preserved for things that actually matter—like whether that Everything But The Bagel ice cream is a breakthrough or an abomination.

This extends beyond parking. We’re the ones with a regular coffee order, a standard takeout meal, a go-to brand of socks. Not because we lack imagination, but because we’ve learned that decision fatigue is real and finite. Every choice eliminated in the parking lot is brain space freed up for actual problems.

2. Your relationship with control is specific and strategic

Here’s the thing about always parking in the same spot: it’s one of the few things in modern life you can actually control. Your boss might spring a surprise meeting, your kid might decide today’s the day to test every boundary known to parenthood, and your houseplant might choose violence despite your best efforts. But that spot? That’s yours to claim.

The thing is, we don’t alphabetize spice racks or lose sleep over crooked picture frames. Instead, we’ve identified specific areas where a little control goes a long way. The parking spot becomes a tiny kingdom in the chaos, a single variable we can lock down while everything else spirals.

It’s what psychologists call “compensatory control”—when life feels unpredictable, we create pockets of predictability. The spot isn’t about the spot. It’s about having one thing, however small, that goes according to plan.

3. You understand the profound comfort of spatial memory

My friend laughs at me for parking in the same spot at the gym, but here’s what he doesn’t understand: I never have to do the “where did I park?” shuffle. That particular form of modern panic—standing in a vast lot, clicking your key fob like you’re trying to summon a mechanical pet—simply doesn’t exist in my life.

Same-spot parkers have unconsciously tapped into something neuroscientists call “cognitive mapping.” Our brains are constantly creating mental maps of our environment, and when we park in the same spot, we’re essentially giving our spatial memory a break. The energy usually spent encoding new location information gets redirected elsewhere.

This trait often correlates with other spatial habits. We sit in the same area at movie theaters, claim the same table at coffee shops, have a preferred treadmill at the gym. Call it boring if you want—I call it efficient. Our brains have better things to do than constantly relearn where we put two tons of metal.

4. You’ve made friends with routine in a very specific way

Spot devotees often display surprising flexibility in other areas. We’ll try the new restaurant, take the scenic route home, spontaneously decide to paint the bathroom navy blue. We just won’t park in a different spot while doing it.

What’s interesting is how we manage change. We’ve identified which routines actually serve us (parking efficiency) versus which ones might limit us (never trying new foods). It’s routine as tool, not master.

Research on habit formation shows that strategic routines—ones that eliminate decision fatigue without limiting experience—are associated with higher creativity and problem-solving ability. By automating the truly mundane (where to park), we free up mental resources for the actually interesting (whether that navy blue was a mistake).

5. Your anxiety manifests in surprisingly practical ways

Let’s be honest: the parking spot thing is a little bit about anxiety. But not in the way you might think. Most of us aren’t having panic attacks or catastrophizing about worst-case scenarios. Instead, our anxiety tends to manifest as hypervigilance about small inefficiencies.

The thought process goes something like: If I park somewhere random, I might forget where. If I forget where, I’ll waste time searching. If I waste time searching, I’ll be late. If I’m late… And down the spiral we go. By claiming our spot, we’re essentially installing a circuit breaker in the anxiety loop.

These pragmatic strategies show up everywhere. We’re the ones who put keys in the same pocket, charge phones in the same outlet, and yes, have a specific spot for the TV remote. These aren’t compulsions—they’re preemptive strikes against future stress.

6. You believe deeply in the power of micro-optimizations

Those of us who park strategically are often secret efficiency nerds. Not in a “I have a spreadsheet for everything” way (though some of us do), but in a quieter appreciation for small optimizations that compound over time.

We’ve usually discovered our spot through trial and error. Maybe we noticed that parking near the cart return means easy cart disposal but also door dings from rushed shoppers. Maybe we realized the spot under the tree seems nice until autumn when it becomes a bird bathroom. We’ve done the research, run the experiments, and arrived at our optimal solution.

You’ll find this mindset elsewhere too. We know exactly how long to microwave leftovers for ideal temperature distribution. We’ve figured out the precise time to leave for work to hit minimum traffic. We appreciate that five seconds saved here and thirty seconds saved there add up to something meaningful—or at least to less time spent in parking lots.

7. You’ve developed a personal philosophy about territory and belonging

Perhaps the most unexpected trait among consistent parkers is how we think about space and belonging. In a world where so little feels truly ours—where we rent instead of own, where jobs feel temporary, where community connections fray—the parking spot becomes a tiny form of territory marking.

It’s not aggressive or possessive. We know it’s not actually “our” spot. But in choosing it repeatedly, in returning to it daily, we create a small sense of place in placeless environments. The grocery store parking lot becomes a little less anonymous. The gym feels a little more like somewhere we belong.

This need for micro-territories often shows up in other ways. We have our coffee shop corner, our library table, our spot at the bar. Not because we’re antisocial or inflexible, but because humans are spatial creatures who need to feel grounded somewhere, even if that somewhere is just section B, row 3, space 17.

Final thoughts

The truth about being a parking spot person is that parking itself is beside the point. What matters is the very human need to create order in chaos, to find efficiency in the mundane, to carve out tiny territories in an increasingly placeless world.

In an era where we’re told to optimize everything, disrupt everything, constantly seek the new and novel, there’s something almost rebellious about saying “No thanks, I’ll just park here.” It’s a small declaration that not everything needs to be reconsidered, that some decisions can be made once and trusted, that there’s value in the familiar.

So the next time you see someone circle a lot looking for their spot, don’t judge too quickly. They’re not being difficult or rigid. They’re just someone who’s figured out that in a world of infinite choices, choosing not to choose can be its own form of wisdom.

And if you’ll excuse me, I need to leave now. The afternoon rush is starting, and someone might take my spot at the coffee shop.