So this story begins like most good stories, with a setting.
Me, a 19 year old male with a part time job for the summer to help cushion the 30k per year tuition. A desolate office building in a heavily wooded area in Maryland, an Emerald Green 1995 Ford Taurus station wagon. And all the random junk I have in my cheap Old Navy khaki shorts.
It was 9pm and the summer bugs invaded all the lighted areas around the four level office building I was in charge of. The humidity and heat was starting to get to me as I did the exterior inspection. My crew had just finished and after I walked around doing the Quality Control check, I sent them home.
Of course, this was no ordinary work day. The fates and stars were conspiring against me. The planets lined up to screw yours truly over and then under.
I walked out the building very content with myself that work was over thirty minutes early today and that I would be able to play Counter-Strike earlier than I had planned. As the smile on my face grew it occurred to me that I left my Coke on the lobby floor. <Cue fast camera zoom on Coke can on marble floor>
Doh. I walk back in, fumbling with the lock. Pick up my Coke off the freshly mopped floor looking back at my cheery reflection. I always thought I looked a little strange with earphones on, very teenager-ly*. But my mix disc of Weezer, RadioHead, Tool, and The Wise Guys were worth the aesthetic sacrifice.
The air conditioner kicked in that exact moment and the wind up noise further masked the ?klinkity klank? of my keys falling out of my overstuffed pockets and on to the floor as I leaned to pick up the can.
I swiftly walk out the auto-locking doors completely unawares the desperation that awaited me. I approach the Ford and start searching my pockets for my keys. Hrm. I don?t quite panic just yet. I slowly remove all the items in my cargo pockets.
Sony Minidisc player with earphones
Two pennies and a nickel
Overpriced Motorola Timeport cellular phone with a labeled rope
A separate set of keys for another building joined with a circular metal thingie*
My GH Bass leather wallet
WHERE THE FSCK ARE MY CAR/HOUSE/BUILDING KEYS??????
I force my memory to recall all my steps in the last few hours. After a few synapses get zapped, I realize the slight ?klinkity klank? I heard when the AC kicked on wasn?t the AC quirking but my keys hitting the floor. I run back to the building and scan the lobby through the double glass main front doors. <Cue fast camera zoom to car/home/building keys on marble floor>
I freeze for a full minute disregarding the bugs attaching themselves to my person. Ever so slowly a sinking feeling develops at the bottom of my stomach. A unique desperation only achievable in times like Normandy, the Spanish Inquisition, and the storming of the Bastille.
Wait, this situation is still ok, I got my cell phone, thank God for technology and consumerism. I flip the phone open, look at the LCD screen. Hrm, only one bar of battery power left, I better call someone to pick me up. I start dialing one of the workers. As it rings once, I hear a beep and the shutdown music of my phone. The battery is dying. I press ?PWR? again and my phone greets me with a cheerful, ?HELLO!?. The backlight on the LCD dims immediately and the phone dies again.
AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH?. What am I going to do? This building houses a network technology company that does quite a bit of work for the NSA, locationally* close to Fort George Meade. I know this how? Well when I do the QC tour an errant document or email print out does catch my eye once and again.
Hence, the building is extremely well secured, better than most I?ve seen. No doors are susceptible to the ?credit card? trick, not even the back doors. A security company installed metal blocks on most doors to prevent it. And on the doors it wasn?t installed the door was very tightly flushed against its frame.
Well so what?s the point of this little story? You figure out how I got home. And I did get home. No glass was broken. No animals were hurt. Nothing else was used but what I listed above.
* It is too a word.
Me, a 19 year old male with a part time job for the summer to help cushion the 30k per year tuition. A desolate office building in a heavily wooded area in Maryland, an Emerald Green 1995 Ford Taurus station wagon. And all the random junk I have in my cheap Old Navy khaki shorts.
It was 9pm and the summer bugs invaded all the lighted areas around the four level office building I was in charge of. The humidity and heat was starting to get to me as I did the exterior inspection. My crew had just finished and after I walked around doing the Quality Control check, I sent them home.
Of course, this was no ordinary work day. The fates and stars were conspiring against me. The planets lined up to screw yours truly over and then under.
I walked out the building very content with myself that work was over thirty minutes early today and that I would be able to play Counter-Strike earlier than I had planned. As the smile on my face grew it occurred to me that I left my Coke on the lobby floor. <Cue fast camera zoom on Coke can on marble floor>
Doh. I walk back in, fumbling with the lock. Pick up my Coke off the freshly mopped floor looking back at my cheery reflection. I always thought I looked a little strange with earphones on, very teenager-ly*. But my mix disc of Weezer, RadioHead, Tool, and The Wise Guys were worth the aesthetic sacrifice.
The air conditioner kicked in that exact moment and the wind up noise further masked the ?klinkity klank? of my keys falling out of my overstuffed pockets and on to the floor as I leaned to pick up the can.
I swiftly walk out the auto-locking doors completely unawares the desperation that awaited me. I approach the Ford and start searching my pockets for my keys. Hrm. I don?t quite panic just yet. I slowly remove all the items in my cargo pockets.
Sony Minidisc player with earphones
Two pennies and a nickel
Overpriced Motorola Timeport cellular phone with a labeled rope
A separate set of keys for another building joined with a circular metal thingie*
My GH Bass leather wallet
WHERE THE FSCK ARE MY CAR/HOUSE/BUILDING KEYS??????
I force my memory to recall all my steps in the last few hours. After a few synapses get zapped, I realize the slight ?klinkity klank? I heard when the AC kicked on wasn?t the AC quirking but my keys hitting the floor. I run back to the building and scan the lobby through the double glass main front doors. <Cue fast camera zoom to car/home/building keys on marble floor>
I freeze for a full minute disregarding the bugs attaching themselves to my person. Ever so slowly a sinking feeling develops at the bottom of my stomach. A unique desperation only achievable in times like Normandy, the Spanish Inquisition, and the storming of the Bastille.
Wait, this situation is still ok, I got my cell phone, thank God for technology and consumerism. I flip the phone open, look at the LCD screen. Hrm, only one bar of battery power left, I better call someone to pick me up. I start dialing one of the workers. As it rings once, I hear a beep and the shutdown music of my phone. The battery is dying. I press ?PWR? again and my phone greets me with a cheerful, ?HELLO!?. The backlight on the LCD dims immediately and the phone dies again.
AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH?. What am I going to do? This building houses a network technology company that does quite a bit of work for the NSA, locationally* close to Fort George Meade. I know this how? Well when I do the QC tour an errant document or email print out does catch my eye once and again.
Hence, the building is extremely well secured, better than most I?ve seen. No doors are susceptible to the ?credit card? trick, not even the back doors. A security company installed metal blocks on most doors to prevent it. And on the doors it wasn?t installed the door was very tightly flushed against its frame.
Well so what?s the point of this little story? You figure out how I got home. And I did get home. No glass was broken. No animals were hurt. Nothing else was used but what I listed above.
* It is too a word.
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