Incident # 2

Adventure on the road to becoming a cell phone owner. Part II:

Incident #2

This incident happened only about a week after the first. Ironically: same friend, different day. We had been out running errands, as I don't have a car, we took hers, but I was driving so she could navigate, her spare car key was on my ring. The day was successful but long. We decided to drive to the LRT station so I could hop a train home, and she would drive her car the few blocks back to her house. So I pulled up, left the engine running, we both got out and said our good-byes and I retrieved my things from the car. Off I went to the LRT platform, and she got into the driver’s seat, threw it in drive and went home.

Less than a half an hour later I was wearily walking up to the entrance of my building, rummaging through my purse in search of my keys, balancing my purchases from our outing. The more I rummaged, the more I panicked. Then I stopped... it was like a wave of realization washed over me, I saw in my mind’s eye my house keys swinging from the ignition of my friend’s car. I let loose a string of curse words that would have, I am sure, made a biker rally look in appreciation of my extensive vocabulary.

Once I composed myself adequately I tailgated into the building and sat down in one of the lovely comfy chairs in the lobby. I quickly devised a plan. I would wait for security to do their rounds and request that they let me into my suite, and the next day I would go and retrieve my keys from my friend. So I pulled out my book (I always carry a book – because I find when I am waiting for any reason at all, it is a nice way to while away the time.) I settled in, content to wait for security to show up. My building use to have 24-hour security on-site but, for whatever reason, now they just do patrols.

I waited about an hour; the length of time I believed existed between patrols before I started getting impatient. I flagged down a tenant coming into the building and requested to use her cell phone. I got security after-hours phone number from the bulletin board and phoned.

Now the adventure begins. The number connected me to a call centre in Vancouver. Where the man I spoke to was useless. And not just useless in the general way, but useless in the “you are lucky you are a plane ride distance away from me because you are so useless that I think I want to cause you genuine bodily harm” sort of way. This is the short version of our conversation as I recall it:

“I am locked out of my apartment. I would like you to radio/call the guard who patrols this building and ask him to come by and let me into my suite.”

“I can’t do that. I don’t have a way to contact the guards.”

Deep breath. “Um, so, just to be clear then... you are unable to contact the guard that patrols the site, well then, what IS the procedure in a situation like this?”

“I can look into it and call you back. Can I please have your phone number?”

“I see, well my phone is locked in my apartment, and I don’t have a cell phone.”

Silence

“Not everyone has a cell phone.” I say

“Well, how are you calling me now then ma’am?”

“ I am standing in the lobby using the cell phone of a young lady who I am sure would like her phone back so that she can get back to her life.”

“Okay, I will call you a locksmith.”

“I don’t want you to call me a locksmith. I want you to either get me the guard who patrols this site, or contact one of the at least half a dozen people who work and live in this building, all of whom have master keys, to come down to the lobby and let me into my suite.”

Silence

Deep breath. “What is the point of an after-hours security number?” He took this as a rhetorical question, I assure you dear reader, it was not.

“I will be in the lobby. I will be waiting for security to do his patrol. Please find a way to contact him or dispatch, try talking to your supervisor.”

I returned the cell phone to the young lady with thanks and a smile and sat down to read my book as I was sure that security had to be coming soon on their rounds. I was mistaken. Another hour and a half passed, another flagged down tenant, another borrowed cell phone, another extremely frustrating phone call to the after-hours call centre in Vancouver. Same guy answered the phone. What luck!

He has called me a locksmith – left a message on the company’s answering machine. That is procedure he says. I say he is useless. I say a message left on their answering machine could mean the locksmith doesn’t show up until morning. I say furthermore, I don’t want a locksmith. I say there are at least 6 people who have master keys all within my screaming distance. I say when is the guard coming by to do his patrol?

I can tell he thinks I’m rude. He can tell I think he’s stupid.

He tells me he will look into it, to phone him back. You’ll look into it, I say, what have you been doing for the last hour and a half if not looking into it?

I hung up on him. Stupid people plague me.

Security showed up within ten minutes. He told me he did not hear from dispatch that he was needed earlier, or he would have come. He was very patient throughout my tirade about Mr. Useless in Vancouver. He asked to see my ID proving I lived at the address and we hopped in the elevator. He said they do this all the time, let people into their suites who have been locked out.

The master key was missing from his ring. He started to look a little scared, having heard of my, shall we call it: displeasure with the level of help I received from Mr. Useless in Vancouver... I think he sensed that his geographical proximity to me may cause the situation to end badly for him.

Off he went in search of the master key while I sat on the floor, my back against the door to my suite imagining that I had the superpowers to think myself inside my apartment. I thought if I had the power to think something into existence I would think Mr. Useless a bad case of hemroids while I was at it. I thought to myself that if I had memorized my friend’s phone number I could have phoned her and asked her to drive downtown and bring me my key. I thought had I known this would take so long and would turn out to be so fruitless, I would have just turned around and gotten back on the train to go back up to my friend's place. I thought to myself that I was taking this better than expected.

The guard returned and tried all the keys on every key chain he had. No luck. He was very apologetic. Resigned, I looked up at him from the floor and very calmly asked him if he had a cell phone. Then I asked him to call me a cab. Off I went to my friend’s house to retrieve my key. All told, I got into my apartment well over three hours after I got home.

You will note that I made three phone calls using three cell phones that night. You can imagine, I am sure, how much speedier this would have gone had I had a cell phone of my own. This occured to me as well....