My boss turned the lights off on a guy. It happens. Not often but it does. We may check the cameras, look for cars, and we have a few other safety checks that, due to security reasons, cannot be divulged.
Sometimes people go into their unit and close the door. If all our security checks check but the guy went into his unit and shut the door (no, I do not know why they do that nor do I want to know) then anything can happen.
Usually, the lack of light doesn’t last long because, no matter how large this building is, it’s been my experience that you can hear someone whimpering like a wounded Sasquatch clear as a bell.
After a minute or so the guy burst into the office. Again, in my experience, I’ve found whenever people burst into the office it’s not a good thing. I’ve never had anyone burst into the office and say,
“Here’s a hundred dollars, Chris. I gotta go. Have a good weekend.”
No, they usually have a complaint. I can understand why this guy was a tad agitated. People get freaked out walking through the building with the lights on. But this guy was one of those people who like a reason to complain. Even if that reason is air isn’t getting into his lungs rapidly enough.
This guy was making a big deal about his light-less eight seconds. My boss, being the reason for this situation, went to apologize. And apologize he did. Over and over and over. It got to the point where he, a very calm, patient man, looked at me and rolled his eyes. Seeing that, I stood up and let him tag me into the match.
I listened to the same litany of lament while thinking that he wasn’t even in the bowels of the building. He was barely inside the sphincter.
I covered the same territory as my boss to no avail until I said,
“This has been a test of our early closing system. If this had been an actual early closing you would have been informed as to how quickly you’d better get out of the building before we toss you out the door. This concludes our test of the early closing system. We now return you to your normal storage day already in progress.”
Then I buzzed the door for him to reenter the building. He stood there for a moment before fully grasping that the test was indeed over and he’d better mosey on with his day.
He opened the door but stopped just as the buzzer did. He turned to me and said,
“I hope. . .”
“. . .here’s a flashlight.” I answered holding out a flashlight. “But, trust me, testing is over for the day.”
We looked at each other for a moment, a sense of belief rippled over his face before he started walking into the building.
But not before he took the flashlight.