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Laura in Cyberland

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Damsel In Distress
Sunday, August 20, 2006
“You’re going to be the last one here,” my co-worker had said to me on her way out of the office. “You know how to get out, right?”

What does she think I am, a total moron? “Yeah, I know how to get out.”

“You know how to lock the front door?”

Apparently my coworker does think I’m a moron. Surprisingly, I have locked doors before. “I’ll be fine.”

I finally convinced her that I didn’t need her to baby me, and let her leave while I finished up the drawing I was working on. I shut down my computer, and about ten minutes later, I was outside the building, front door locked nicely. Except that my office key, car key, and wallet were all still on my desk, inside the locked office.

I was locked out, stranded, and, my coworker had judged me accurately.

What was I going to do? Well, lucky for me, I was an engineer. When I found myself in this tricky situation, I considered my options, narrowed them down, and chose an effective problem solving technique that came to me with ease. Within thirty seconds, I had swiftly and successfully called somebody else.

“Gene, do you want to be my Knight in Shining Armor, and come save me?” Gene always gets a call from me when I’ve been being an idiot, and he’s bailed me out of a few doozies. But not that evening. Let’s just say that Gene’s armor was a few lumens shy of lustrous, and just told me not to freak out instead of lifting a finger to help me. Not even Ad (my official Complain-To Ear) picked up his phone when I called him to ask for help, or maybe just whine like a big baby.

By the time two hours had passed by, I was still locked out and fresh out of ideas. I had spent forever inspecting that door for weakness, walked to the hardware store to buy a 46cent piece of wire using the 46cents I’d found in my pocket, and found that getting the wire around the latch inside the door was harder than I had expected. It was really dark out by that time, and a group of jerks started walking by periodically, eyeing me conspicuously and trying to figure out what the hell I was doing.

I called Shannon. Help me!

“Ok,” Shannon said, “I’ll get some screwdrivers and wire coat hangers and come get you.” What a loyal friend.

“Thanks Shannon, you’re the best.”

“Cool... I’ll be on my way.” I thought she was going to get off the phone then, but she had something on her mind. “But that guy from New York called me today. You know the New York guy? Right? I can’t believe he had the nerve to call me. I mean, what does he think he’s doing…”

Oh boy. Shannon gets lost in her thoughts sometimes, and the fact that I was locked out seemed to take a lower priority than I had hoped. I crammed the phone up against my shoulder, and freed my hands to try to open the door using the wire again. I shoved the back end of the flashlight between my teeth so I could point light onto the lock, and manipulated the wire around the door very carefully, as I kept listening. “He makes me want to throw up! Like I was honestly just about to sit down to eat when I got his voicemail…”

Slowly, the piece of wire moved closer to the latch.

“Then when I went to eat, it’s like I just didn’t want to…”

After a few minutes I was getting surprisingly close to opening the door, but the guys that had been making fun of me for the past two hours were wandering over again. I was facing the door to the building so they were about ten feet behind me, and a very fun situation began to unfold.
“You’re gonna need to come home with us soon, Little Lady.”

I needed to get rid of them, but if I turned around I would have lost my progress with the wire. What could I do?
Twenty miles away, Shannon started comparing her guy to a diet plan. “I could like, lose weight thanks to this…”

The jerks came closer. “Yeah, need a ride, little girl?”

Oh boy. If I turned my head, I would have dropped the phone. Stagnated, I just stood there thinking as Shannon and the guys kept talking simultaneously.

“I could probably sell this as a diet plan…”

“Hey, why won’t you talk with us?”

This was going to drive me crazy. I wondered if I could even speak while holding that flashlight in my mouth.

“Do you think I should call him? ”

“C'mon babe, were really sweet to girls.”

Babe!?! I spat that flashlight right onto the concrete and used all my will power to stop myself from just screaming, since Shannon was still worried.
“I don’t want to call him…”
I couldn’t bring myself tell her that her boy problem was in bad timing. I gave up and grabbed all the wire in my left hand. I turned around as best I could without moving my head from cell-phone pinching position and with my free hand, I flipped those guys off with an incredibly satisfying middle finger and glared at them with a look that communicated at least a few expletives and a couple good insults. They got the picture, and Shannon continued talking.

“Yeah, I’m not going to call…” She was free to say anything she wanted.

Having lost my chance of opening the door with that piece of wire, Shannon came to get me and totally saved me from the situation. I guess I owe her some armor polishing.
And next time my coworker asks me a question, I’m just going to write MORON really big on my forehead, and hope she babies me like crazy.
 
Comments:
ARRGHH! Why do guys have to be such tools!? so frustrating to be one of them sometimes...
 
Phil, you're awesome. I love this entry ^_-
 
Ben,
I found your comment today, and you are my commenting idol!

I found your site through Gene's recently too, and it's got fun photos of you and Agneiszka on it. You two are so cute. :)
LC
 
I used to be awesome at breaking and entering. We lived in this crappy house once that I more than once locked myself out of. No problem, cuz I always managed to have a ballpoint pen on me. Yes, getting back in was that easy. My friend once found another entry - you could push the window in a little and slide it open. Unfortunately, one night the glass gave, shattered, and crossed him up and down on the wrist. Big bloody mess. True story. I digress. (Oh, fear not - he lived.)

Laura, please be more careful! There's a guy roaming around an upscale neighborhood ten miles from my apt catching women joggers and raping them. I think people (women and men) tend to feel more capable of defending themselves than they usually are. You did the right thing by appearing very confident when those guys approached you, but the thugs may not just turn away next time.

So my advice? (Shut up Kel - I didn't ask!) Maybe keep the number of a local 24/7 taxi co in your cell. Next time, esp if it's getting dark out, just bite the bullet and pay the few dollars it would take to get a lift out of there and back the next day.

This is a long comment, and people seem to not like long comments on their blogs. You can delete if you want - no offense taken. :-)

Oh, and I'm not done. Wow!! Who is the gorgeous hottie in this breakdancing pic in the sidebar here? Is that you? You look so cute! :-)

Hope your footsies are better. ;-)

PS I looked up "footsies" to be sure I spelled it right. It gave me synonyms: foot, feet, footsies, tootsies, dogs, pedal extremities.

Tootsies? Dogs, I've heard (not in a long time, but I've heard). Tootsies?? :-p
 
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G'night
 
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