And by “celebrated” I mean “got trapped in a blistering hot freight elevator lobby.”
***
I have this little voice that, every once in a while, pops up inside my head and says something incredibly intelligent.
Unfortunately this voice is typically drowned out by a big booming voice that shouts OH NO DON’T WORRY ABOUT THAT YOU’LL BE JUST FINE. Leading me into wreck and ruin.
So yesterday,
I have a meeting on the 14th floor. The problem is that the elevator on my floor (6) only goes up to 13… to get to 14 you have to go down to the lobby and then up a completely different elevator. Which is inefficient, especially when you only have three minutes to get to your meeting.
“Hey!” I think, “I should take the elevator to the 13th floor and then take the stairs up one level to 14!”
But then that voice (the one I was telling you about) says, “are you sure this is a good idea? What if you get trapped in the stairwell?”
Because the stairwell only opens on certain floors.
But then the BIG BOOMING VOICE says, “OH NEVER MIND YOU’LL BE ALRIGHT!”
So I hop in the elevator and exit on 13. Unfortunately on 13 I can’t find the stairwell. I’m wandering in circles and wondering if I should just go back and take the way I know (there’s that little voice again) when this nice-seeming woman stops and says, “You look lost. Can I help you find something?”
“I’m trying to find the stairs,” I tell her.
“Oh,” she says, “they’re rather hidden. Just go through the freight elevator door, take the door on the left and then your first right is the stairs.”
“THANK YOU!” I shout, running for the freight elevator door. Because at this point my three minutes is up and I should be at my meeting. The meeting that I scheduled. With one Vice President and one Director. And my Boss.
I go through the door marked “freight elevator” — it clicks behind me and I find myself in a small area with three doors, all of them locked, including the one I just went through. I wiggle the handles. I push and I pull. I am totally, completely, 100% trapped.
It’s 99 degrees. At least.
Am I in an episode of MacGyver? A new release of Spy Kids? I’d figure out how to jimmy the door open with a paper clip, only I don’t have a paper clip. And I’d love to blast the elevator open with my laser pen. But my pen has only ink, no laser.
And then, as if by magic, the elevator doors open.
GLORY HALLELUJAH! I think, I did that with my mind. And I make a move to enter.
There’s a man standing there, wearing a beige uniform and a serious expression. He holds up his hand to stop me.
“STOP,” he says.
Thanks. I got that from the hand.
“I’m trapped,” I explain. “I work here,” I hold up my badge, “and I was trying to find the staircase when I got trapped.”
“Ma’am,” he begins, (it’s never good when it starts with Ma’am), “I’m sorry but I can’t let you out. I need to go back down to the security desk to clear you.”
Seriously? How does he think I got here? Magic? BEAMED IN STAR-TREK STYLE?
The doors closed and I’m left alone again with only the heat and my sweaty self for company.
I pull out my cell phone. There’s only one thing to do. As much as I hate to do it…
I dial my boss’s cell phone.
***
This was my second week at my new job, over two years ago. I am posting it today, in honor of Friday the 13th, in earnest hopes that nothing similar happens to you. EVER.
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