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Locked Out

My neighbor frantically pushed the buzzer to my casa yesterday, her desperate voice sending concern through the speaker.

It was an emergency, but not life threatening. She had locked herself out of her apartment, and needed a locksmith. 

She sat on my sofa catching her breath and relaying her dilemma in long, disconnected sentences, needing a phone to summon someone with knowledge on the removal of doorknobs.

I was not that person, although I do have a screwdriverI use to fix my glasses. You know the one; it’s the size of tweezers.

Since it was a Sunday afternoon, finding a reliable and available fix-it guy from a nearby, closed hardware store was not an option, but I kept searching the world wide web to see if I could find an emergency number for someone. 

As I moved my fingers on the keyboard, my brain finally kicked-in, and I remembered I have a property manager who responds almost anytime and handles such emergencies.

A quick call explaining the problem: she had left a key in the lock on the inside of her house so replacing the key wouldn’t work, the blocked knob would have to be removed. Or, that seemed to be the solution.

In just a couple of minutes, a response came from my trusty know-it-all gentleman assuring me help would arrive in 10 minutes.

What’s 10 minutes when you have been stewing about it for an hour before getting to me.

Sure enough, a man appeared in 8 minutes, spoke my name in Spanish, which took me another 2 minutes to understand, and my neighbor locked arms with her new best friend and they hurried across the street to remedy the lock problem.

I didn’t hear from her that evening, but at about 9 pm I did check out the street and she was not sleeping on the curb, so I figured she had successfully broken into her home. 

Sure enough, the next morning as I walked past her kitchen window on my way to the dog park with my 2 canines, she poked her head out and said she was safe, sound, and cooking breakfast.

I didn’t get an invitation to dine with her, but I did receive a detailed rundown of how the door-fixer quickly got her inside, the key removed from the lock, and the doorknob back on the door in record time.

I also got a big thank you, a promise of equal assistance if I should ever have a similar need, and a happy wave goodbye.

I have a bunch of sympathy for her plight. After all, I too have locked myself out, and no one to buzz to let me in. I have a few neighbors who live several blocks away who have keys to my place, and I’m fortunate usually to find someone at home when my mind skips the part about putting my keys in my pocket along with my phone as I slam the door shut!

Thank goodness for nice neighbors who you hope will open their doors to you. 

Moral of the story, be nice to those folks living nearby, you may need help one day.

4 thoughts on “Locked Out

  1. Been there, done that. Fortunately a friend within walking distance had a key to my house. I’ve also locked my keys in the car with the extra set with my daughter on vacation. Fortunately, she was going to be home the next day and I was able to change my appointment.These are times it’s good to have a cell phone.

    Like

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