Name That LADie…. Part 2

Thanks to all of you who read our last installment of  “Name That LADie” and ventured a guess about our mystery poster’s identity.

“It’s scary in the attic.”

First of all, in order to full appreciate my dilemma you’ll need a bit of background.   Although the LAD office has a production room and storage area, we do frequent mailings and need an place to store our extensive supply of boxes, packaging peanuts, folders, archived files, etc.  So, we lease a storage space in the attic area of our building.

Imagine, if you will, a small landing at the top of two flights stairs with six foot ceilings, exposed pipes and three old doors leading to the storage spaces.  Adding to the ominous environment is lighting that can be described at best as dim.

Can you picture it?  Excellent.

My “Name that LADie” adventure starts out simply enough – it was a quite Friday with only one other LADie and myself in the office.  It was around eleven o’clock when I realized I needed an older file and after searching through our filing cabinet I knew I had to go upstairs to get what I was looking for.  I grabbed the keys to the attic and our storage unit, breezing through the door and quickly yelling to my co-worker that I was headed upstairs and would be right back. They don’t call them famous last words for nothing.

After entering our storage space, I made my way across the room, found the box I was looking for and opened the lid to the file folder.  And then I heard it.  The unmistakable sound of the door clicking closed behind me.

No big deal – all doors have to open from the inside, right?   Oh, no.  Not our old broken door lock.  Once the door had closed behind me, it had locked shut and wasn’t coming open.   This is the moment I freaked out.

You see, I have a very active imagination and every time I’m in the attic space I manage to convince myself that Michael Meyers is hiding out in the storage unit next door and he’s about to get me. Crazy, but true.

After a few deep breaths (thanks yoga) I was able to calm myself down and start thinking straight.  I wasn’t that far up from the nearest business, someone was bound to hear me if I started screaming for help.

Alas, it was not meant to be.  After about ten minutes of yelling and banging on the door I gave up  decided to sit down and wait it out (it was about this time that I decided a psycho killer was bound to hear my screams and come eat me for dinner).  Plus, I knew that eventually people would notice I was missing and come to find me – after all, they did know where I was.

An hour later I knew it was time to take matters into my own hands.  If I wanted to get out of that storage unit (and boy did I) I was going to have to do it myself.

My first lockpicking thought was a credit card – I’d seen this particular device used many times with great success on tv.  The only problem with that one is a shocking lack of credit cards in most storage spaces.  My next strategy was to search the room and see what I could find that might be of any use.  Now, you’d be really surprised at the number of everday office supplies that might be good lock picking tools – letter openers, staple removers and paperclips (this one seems kind obvious, and yet it really performed the poorest of all my attempts).

Then I found it.  The ultimate tool for unlocking the attic door – the metal rod on a green hanging file.  It’s size and shape are the perfect design to reach between the door and the door frame and open the metal clasp on the lock.

Ha ha!  Take that attic!

As I made my way downstairs towards our office I was still half dazed and completely astounded that I was able to break free. I was also excited to let my co-worker know that I had escaped safe and sound and that they could call off the search.  To my surprise I learned that no one was looking for me – in fact, she thought I had taken an early lunch and was returning late!

After recounting my harrowing tale, my coworkers were understandably awed and inspired by my keen wit and ability to think clearly under pressure.  Following this unfortunate episode (and a commendable peformance with a fire extinguisher) I received a new office nickname – just call me MacGyver.