Wednesday, January 25, 2006

A note on working late...

Last night I worked late.

And by "late" I mean it was going on 10 PM when I finally left the building.

Anyway, the museum where I work has a very small staff. So, the last one there at night is in charge of locking up the employee entrance and turning on the alarm.

Last night that person was me.

Normally, being the last one in the building doesn't really bother me - especially now that the scary doll exhibit has been packed up and sent away (I really don't like dolls. They freak me out and remind me of every CHUCKIE movie trailer that I've ever seen). Last night was no different - that is until it came time to actually leave the safety of the museum and venture outside to my car.

See, the problem is that I work in an area of Dallas that is not necessarily known for it's...uh...safety. I have actually stopped watching the evening news (except for the weather) because I'm tired of hearing about yet another murder-shooting-mugging-WHATEVER down near the museum. I much prefer to feign ignorance about the crime statistics surrounding where I work. It is the one case where denial is actually working for me (or so I tell myself).

My mother has instituted a similar strategy at her house. I call it the "don't ask, don't tell" policy and it applies to me when I work alone at the museum after dark. In her mind, if she doesn't know about it, then it is not really happening. Ignorance may really be bliss, after all (or, at least, worry free).

Anyway, back to last night...

I packed up my stuff and headed down the hall towards the employee entrance. Once I got there I gently unlocked the door and opened it just enough to stick my head out and look around.

I do this for one reason, and one reason alone: RR said so.

RR has instructed me countless times to always open the employee door and peek out before actually leaving the building. Why?...you ask? Well, it is all in an effort to spot a potential murderer-rapist-kidnapper before he or she is able to kill, rape and/or bag the peeker (in this particular situation: me). I admit that this is a (somewhat) silly thing to do - mainly because I don't believe that anyone is actually waiting outside the door to simply jump out and randomly attack me. Not that it couldn't happen, mind you. I just think that it is statistically improbable. But, I do peek anyway...you know...just incase.

Last night when I opened the door, I heard a very loud *CRACK!* I don't know who or what it was, nor do I pretend to know where it came from. Upon hearing the Loud Sound of Indeterminable Origin (LSIO, for short) I jumped back inside the building and pulled the door closed (and by "pulled", I really mean "pulllllllllllllllllled" because there is no shutting that door in a way that resembles anything fast, speedy or moderately swift).

Anyway, I got the stupid door closed and then I just...well, stood there. Because when you hear something all you can really do is wait to hear something again. And THAT does you no good, because you are still in the museum and you don't really want to find out what it is like to, say, sleep there. So, when you don't hear something again after a few minutes it becomes clear that you are going to have to make a decision:

1. Spend the night.
2. Attempt the "door peek" for a second time and pray for no sound this time around.

I opted for option number two.

So, I gathered up all my nerve and slowly unlocked and reopened the employee door. And...and...and...and...well, nothing.

Nothing happens.

Nothing.

I close the door and *sigh*. Now what? It LOOKS safe, but there was that sound a little while ago. Do you really want to risk life and limb for a chance to leave work (this really wasn't a question, because - again - there was NO way I was going to sleep anywhere near the museum. Not a viable option, if you ask me).

So, what do I do?

What DO I do?

Well, Trevor is in class up in Plano. He gets out at 10, but I don't really want to wait in the hallway for him to make the 45 minute drive down here. Especially since my something was probably...well...nothing.

I can't call my parents - that would violate the "don't ask, don't tell" policy.

Which leaves me with...what, exactly?

Oh, wait! I know! I'll call RR!

To be honest, I called RR knowing perfectly well that she would NOT answer. The twins have a strict no-cell-phone-after-they-are-both-home rule, so I was confident that it would go straight to voicemail.

And, you know what?...it did!

Brilliant.

No rings, no nothing. Just the cheerful, "Leave a message" coming from RR's cell phone voicemail.

So, I did just that...I left a message.

I left a message as I walked from the museum to my car...rambling on about nothing every step of the way.

Why?...you ask?

Well, let me explain. The plan was perfectly simple. If I was attacked by what ever caused the earlier LSIO, then I could describe - at least in fragmented detail - what my attacker looked like.

Plus, the very leaving of the message guaranteed that a specific time frame would be established by the local law enforcement in the event of my abduction, near-fatal wounding or tragic slaying.

See...perfect plan.

So, I got to my car safely (it was very anticlimactic, really. The most exciting thing that happened on the way to my car was that a security guard in a golf cart drove by at a swift 3 miles an hour).

Then I hung up the phone and drove home.

It wasn't until I got back to my house that I actually stopped to think that maybe...just maybe...RR would be upset that I had done what I had done - utilizing her cell phone answering machine in such an unorthodox way.

But I needn't have been so concerned. Apparently, RR calls and leaves similar messages on JLR's answering machine when she is leaving work late at night. I guess great minds really do think alike.

Who knew?!

The End...

11 comments:

Amstaff Mom said...

Oh, I have SO done that. Leaving the mall after it's closed always gave me the heebie jeebies. So I've done the "talking on the cell phone but not being too distracted as to not be able to way-lay on someone should they approach" walk.

Having gone to high school in downtown Dallas, with the occasional late night volleyball or basketball game that caused me to walk down Ervay late at night, I do understand the fear and trepidation that you speak of. Unfortunately, I did have one unpleasant experience where I walked down a narrow corridor with a homeless man who had cut out a portion of his pants. Not pleasant AT ALL. That was my only bad experience, thankfully.

You were probably right as to not call your parents. My mom would have freaked a beak and would have worried every consecutive night thereafter.

Glad you're safe and sound!

And I'm just curious, while this was all happening, did "I need to blog about this" enter your mind? Because this was a great post, as usual.

JLR said...

For the record, if you had called us at home, we totally would have driven down there to escort you to your car.

Katie said...

love this story, and I've done the phone call thing when walking through a rough spot, more to just let the people around me know that I am in contact with someone in case they choose to jump me

Greg said...

I think the loud crack was the security guard playin golf and his golf ball hit the side of the building. Did you here the word "FORE!" after the loud crack??

Greg said...

hear the word... not here the word.

Deals On Wheels said...

AM: "Freaked a beak"...hehe, I like that. Catchy, but SO true!

JLR: Now you know the precise reasoning behind my not calling you two at home. I was feeling scared...and stupid...and stupid for feeling scared. I wasn't feeling scared (or stupid) enough, however, to call you two and have ya'll come down and rescue me. I'm stubborn, so it would take a special kind of freaky for me to actually solicit outside help from the dynamic duo.

Katie: I know, right?! It's a little ridiculous to think that anyone would actually shy away from attacking someone talking on a cell phone. Knowing my luck, I'd probably be so shocked by being attacked in the first place that I'd lose my ability to form words, phrases or sentences that didn't include, "AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

Deals On Wheels said...

Ben: I prefer to "here" the word. You know, as if the word was a dog and I was telling it to come "here".

Much better than "hearing" it...verbal communication is overrated, anyway!

Hehe...I don't even know what I just wrote (or what it means). I've just spent the past four hours upstairs with 102 out-of-control 4th graders. I do believe my sanity is waning...

Deals On Wheels said...

Comment received via email from my mother (a.k.a. "Grammy Pammy") about this post:

"So, I'm not a worried mom? I've waded too deep into that river in Egypt, huh? Thanks!"

Hehe...I love you, too, Mom!! XOXO

Grammy Pammy said...

I'll be BAACKK!!

Grammy Pammy said...

Dealey--Sure, I worry about you, but it sounds like you used your head this time for something besides growing hair! Heh, Heh...Love you too, dear

Deals On Wheels said...

Are you making a comment about my general lack of eyebrows? Because that would be SO unsupportive...