Talk about an eventful morning.
So the elevators at my work may or may not be the slowest moving elevators seen on the planet since the '20s (ever seen Thoroughly Modern Millie? Slow like that). There is one in particular which, every morning, just has the doors open so no one can use it.
I think you can see where I'm heading with this.
This morning when Heather and I called the elevator, that happened to be the elevator that opened for us. We had some misgivings, due to it usually being inaccessible in the mornings, but we got in anyway. The doors closed, and that was the end of that.
We pushed the button for 8. Nothing happened. I swiped my key card to see if that would help, even though the button had lit up when I pushed it. Still no movement. We tried 7. Then 6. Then "Doors Open."
Nothing.
That's right--we were locked in the elevator.
 |
| Heather reenacting our apprehension/slight hysteria. |
We pushed all kinds of buttons to try to get out--all the floors, "Doors Open, "Doors Close"--and still nothing. After approximately five minutes, we were desperate enough to open the little door at the bottom of the elevator and push the "Call" button.
 |
| Note: This is a reenactment. During the event we were too worried about getting out alive to take pictures. |
I pushed the dreaded button. [p.s., It was really nasty in the box. Possibly years of dust bunnies there. Not even kidding.] There was ringing. Then an operator picked up. Here's an approximation of the call through the speaker hidden in the door:
Operator: Hi, how can I help you?
Me: Yeah, we're locked in an elevator.
Operator: *slight pause* You're locked in the elevator?
Me: Yes. We got in, the doors closed, and it hasn't moved no matter what buttons we push and the doors won't open.
Operator: *longer pause--obviously this is something she's never heard before* Well, okay. Try holding down the "Open Doors" button for ten seconds.
I do so.
Operator: *after about twenty seconds* Anything?
Me: Nothing.
Operator: Okay. Let me verify your address. Are you at [rattles off my building and its address]?
Me: Yep.
Operator: Okay. I'll let your maintenance people know. In the meantime, I want you to push the "Emergency" button every two to three minutes until you're out. [Note: This was one of the buttons we had not yet pushed. We hadn't quite dared. Who knew if the building would go into lockdown?] Do you need anything else?
Me: Nope, I think that's all.
Operator: Well, good luck!
By happenstance, Heather pushed the "Open Doors" button again a few minutes later and the doors magically opened. We got out of there like nobody's business and finally made it up to work. About halfway up to the eighth floor it occurred to us that we ought to have left a note of some kind for the maintenance guys, but no way we were going all the way back to the parking level and facing our nemesis. Hopefully the techs figured it out.
Random, huh? I thought that kind of thing only happened in movies and books.
What's really random is just yesterday Heather and I were discussing what to do should your elevator go crazy and drop all Tower of Terror style, and I mentioned getting stuck in an elevator at one of my old jobs several years ago (i.e., approximately four), but only for about thirty seconds and in the middle of a ride, not the beginning. So I totally jinxed us. Good thing I don't have our deaths riding on my shoulders.
Now for the BOO-ing.
Yesterday morning, I came in to find this treasure on my desk:
I got BOO-ed! [Have you ever done this? It usually goes around neighborhoods and is really fun.] Talk about exciting. Heather, it just so happens, also got BOO-ed yesterday. This means we spent our break yesterday morning at Smith's, which happens to be just around the corner, buying candy.
This morning was our day of BOO-ing. We were a little behind schedule, due to our elevator fiasco, but it worked out. As it happens, Heather and I seemed to be the last people in our department to get BOO-ed, so we decided to spread the love to IT.
You may recall me mentioning the raptor awareness of the Help Desk team. In lieu of that, I used one of my sheets to BOO them, crossed out "BOO-ed," and put "raptor attacked." My dearest hope is that their little chart of days will say "0" when I walk by next. This little joke totally made my day. I'm still chuckling about it. Man, sometimes I'm so funny I just can't stand it.
Now, for the last order of business: awesomeness. In particular, mine.
If you've spent any amount of time with me, you have likely heard me utter the phrase "made of awesome," usually in reference to myself or someone else I'm giving an A+ in awesomeness to at the moment.
In case any of you haters doubted me being made, in fact, of awesome, here is proof on Wikipedia:
 |
| Sorry about the cross-outs--it has to do with us trying to be private about who, exactly, we are when it comes to strangers. Lame, I know. |
As you know, if it's on Wikipedia, it's the dead truth, so obviously I am, in fact, made of awesome. And it's an incontrovertible fact.
[Heather, my carpool/elevator fiasco/BOO-ing buddy, was kind enough to make this Wikipedia entry for me and take a screen shot of it within the forty seconds or so before Wikipedia shot it down as spam. She is, to continue the theme, made of awesome herself.]
