First thing this morning I had a physical therapy appointment at . (An unrelated aside: If you're ever in need of physical therapy, this may just be the best place to get it.) On my way to work after the appointment, I drove by the alleged Lent Ranch Mall, renamed as the Elk Grove Promenade but .
As we all know, it's a shell of a mall. Walls and a few roofs create the form of what it could have been but most likely will never be. Chain link fences wrap it in a protective barrier. And taking up station in the empty parking lot swept by the delta breeze that sweeps across Elk Grove and kicks up leaves and trash, is the lone sentry. Parked in a marked security vehicle, the security guard presides over the wasteland of the Promenade.
To what end? To watch the cobwebs form and the dust gather? To protect the husk of a mall from bird droppings? To do what exactly?
Understand, I get that the abandoned mall is an attractive nuisance—a siren's call to the wandering teenager who needs a place to vandalize or experiment with stunts inspired by Jackass or to homeless individuals who may view it as a convenient camping spot.
But I can't even begin to imagine a job in Elk Grove that is worse than that of the mall security guard at this lonely and forlorn location. Sitting, watching and waiting for what? 99.99% of the time—absolutely nothing. And, again for what? A mall that will never be built. Have you got a worse one?