Well I got stuck in the freight elevator today. Just couldn't take it that it was really broken. I thought I knew the solution. So off of my partner in crime's stellar advice-being that the buddy system now be used in the frieght elevator-we both got in. Let me preface this by saying that the cafe manager had just gotten stuck and had to pry herself out because the doors wouldn't open. But I thought we could just ride it back up and bring it back down again-it would line up with the floor and everything would by ok. And my partner in crime-and her buddy system rule-decided to follow me into the freight elevator. And as i pulled the door down and the latch hooked-I had a small concern: what if it really is broken and now both closing managers are stuck in the elevator? Not that that would happen because I knew how to fix the issue. However, the elevator wasn't aware that it was supposed to be listening to my wonderful idea and suddenly be fixed. So the second after my that concern voiced itself in my head-it was reality. And we were both stuck in the freight elevator. Both closing managers, hanging out in the freight elevator.
Luckily it's spacious in there. It was a little chilly, because this is the elevator that goes up and down from our loading dock and it's drafty. Thank God my partner in crime thought to bring her coffee with her-and a book. The book just happened to be-Are You There Vodka, It's Me Chelsea. By Chelsea Handler. So there we are, sitting on pallet jack and cardboard, Chelsea Handler in hand; people breaking broom handles trying to pry open the doors, and pull levers and push big red scary buttons. All the while, no one's told our boss yet. But when she does find out she considers leaving us in there to "think about what we'd done." And of course-it's my fault that we were both in there-eventhough the buddy system was totally, completely and utterly not my idea. I did not force her into the elevator or any such nonsense. And yet it's my fault-go figure.
Finally, about a half hour later ( probably not that long-but I can dream), through brute force that no one else could muster (probably because they didn't really want us out of the elveator), our store detective rescued us from our traumatic predicament. I mean really-if we were claustrophobic or had a fear of...freight elevators, we could've been in trouble. But thankfully our big strong detective was there to save the day.
An hour later, facing a sobbing bookseller, who was upset that I had made her job easier (that's right I said easier), I was once again wishing I was still in the broken freight elevator. I mean sobbing! I don't know about anybody else, but if my boss comes up to me and says, you know what-we have people to do this so you can actually do your job today and not 5 different ones-I'd be fucking exstatic! I mean, I wish for that every day! I would love and not have to go and clean up other people's half done stuff, or run their department for a few hours, and then MOD on top of it all. I'd love to come in and just be a merch manager for a day. But not my bookseller. They would rather project all night and ignore the customers and embarass my kids lead.
And then I threw an emergenC packet in the detective's face. Right in his face-smack dab in the middle of his face. It was pretty funny.
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