Extra credit

Looking over my recent photos of Chicago's historic Graceland Cemetery, I was reminded of having become entranced by a row of mausoleums.

Mausies intrigue me; functioning as little houses, they provide dedicated above-ground spaces for those interred within.

(The occupants are past caring, but it's a nice gesture.)

And I love it when they're lined up like soldiers, serious and straight, stoic throughout the ages, all but impervious to the weather and their surroundings.

Ninety-five times out of a hundred, the tiny buildings are locked up tight. I can never decide whether the locks are intended to keep the dead ones in or the living ones out.

Not that I want in.

Be that as it may, looking at my pictures reminded me of a story I meant to tell you and had temporarily forgotten to share.

So here goes.

Technically it's Audrey's story to tell but she told it to me and she doesn't have a blog so I gladly stand in the gap for you, my readers.

I may have one or two of the finer details wrong but in the end it won't matter.

You'll see.

The story involves something that happened to Audrey and Dagny last spring, shortly after they moved into their new house.

They'd gone outdoors so that Dagny could work off excess energy by riding her new scooter.

If Audrey were telling the tale, she'd reveal exactly how they got locked out.

I wasn't there and I can't remember what she told me, but the result is the same: Audrey realized at some point that she had locked her door and left her keys inside.

I'm pretty sure she had her phone with her but it wouldn't have done her much good to call her dad or me, or Andrew or Erica.

We didn't have keys to her house.

Thinking that she may be able to work her way in with a credit card -- it was worth a shot -- Audrey went to a neighbor and borrowed one. 

(Or at least, a plastic card just like a credit card. I mean, would you give a new neighbor one of your credit cards if they materialized at your door and asked for it?)

(Maybe I'm the suspicious type, but I wouldn't.)

At any rate, Audrey returned to her domicile and slid the borrowed plastic card into the space between the lock and the jamb, in an attempt to coax the door open.

But the more she tried, the more she realized that she was well and truly locked out. And that no card -- credit or otherwise -- was going to change it.

There were no windows to slide open either. The place was like a fortress.

Finally, knowing the hit her wallet was about to take but having no choice, Audrey used her phone to call a locksmith.

I wasn't there and I don't know what locksmiths normally do to get into houses when folks have locked themselves out. I assume they have tools that are made for that purpose.

But whatever the locksmith Audrey summoned possessed in the way of tools, and whatever tried-and-true tricks he knew, he too was unsuccessful.

As in, no matter what professional lock-breaching method he employed, he could not get Audrey's front door to budge.

At a loss, he asked if he could use the plastic card in her hand -- the borrowed plastic card she had not yet returned to her neighbor.

And so it was that, using the neighbor's plastic, the locksmith got Audrey's door open while she and Dagny watched and waited.

The locksmith required full payment of his fee for getting them back inside their house using the neighbor's plastic card.

I realize he'd been obliged to drop what he was doing and drive over there to help my daughter, who was in a considerable pickle, and for that he deserved payment, because it's his job.

But the entire amount? For getting in not with the tools he's trained to use, but with a plastic card she'd borrowed from the neighbor?

Yes. What do you think about that?

Here's what I think: I hope that for her money, Audrey requested a quick tutorial on how to open one's door with a credit card.

And then -- for extra credit -- I hope she replaces her current lock with one that cannot be opened with a plastic card.

And that is all for now.

=0=0=0=

Happy Tuesday

Comments

[Mari]

I like those mausoleums too, especially all in a row! They are rarely seen around here.
I think Audrey needs to come up with a creative spot to hide a key, just in case! Or get a door with a # your have to punch in. What a terrible feeling!

[Jennifer]

@Mari ... you are so right. Alas at the time, she hadn't lived there long enough to think all of that through. You never think it will happen to you until it does, and then you're like, duh. xoxo

[Judy]

I would like to be buried above ground, but those masies are really expensive.
Here in Michigan there is a law that every casket must be lowered into a cement vault.
A heavy cement cover, with the deceased's name on it is lowered on top of the vault. This prevents water from seeping in, the casket degrading and the grave falling in.
So, when I am buried I will be sort of liked--canned--only in cement instead of glass.
I just hope when that Trumpet sounds and the graves are opened, someone will be there to get that heavy cement cover off me!!!!!

[Jennifer]

@Judy ... haaahaha girl, nobody will be needed. The word of God Almighty will be enough to bring you out of that grave. Hallelujah. xoxo

[Audrey]

Yep that's pretty much it!! I literally locked my door and as soon as I closed it I thought...wait...I don't have my key! AND my car door was locked - so no spare for me. Hence a long hot evening standing outside with a 4yr old waiting for a locksmith to get there and charge me $65 to use a Lowes' food card to get in my door. LOL!!!!

[Barb]

Bob’s parents are buried in a mausoleum - the only one in a small country cemetery. His mother (before her death, of course) was afraid to be buried underground. She had a strong religious faith but perhaps was overwhelmed by claustrophobia? I called AAA a couple years ago because I locked my car with keys inside (with all my groceries inside too - on a summer day...) They sent two separate guys with gizmos that attempted to pry the window enough to reach an open button (much to Bob’s dismay). Both were unsuccessful. Finally, a locksmith arrived, and he made some kind of dummy key that worked. Audrey needs to find some “secret” place for a key or give a spare to family members. I bet the predicament made Dagny talk!

[sally]

Oh my goodness, poor Audrey! And, I agree it's despicable that she had to pay the full amount. ugh

While I was gone I locked my keys in the car, and one day when I had taken one of my cousin's girlfriend shopping; we came out of the store and I had left the car running. Thank goodness, I hadn't locked the door which I usually do on the side panel. That is a story in itself. :)

I don't know why but when Judy mentioned the "cement" I thought about J*mmy H*fff***' amd that is another story in my brain. LOL

xoxo

xoxo

[Cheryl]

Well, I guess the guy deserves payment in full. If the card were on the ground, he would have looked around and seen it and used it. The payment is for opening the door. No restrictions on how. Now if she wants her money back, see if the credit card still works. If it was damaged then you have a case. That is my two cents. Hahahaha!

[Jennifer]

To Audrey, Barb, Sally, and Cheryl: Sorry it took me so long to see and approve your comments. I guess I've been out to lunch for several days and didn't even realize it. Haaaha. So, apologies. And now:

@Audrey ... yes that was an experience you won't soon forget. I hope you've figured out a clever-clogs place to hide a spare key. And like Mari said -- get you one of those combination locks like Andrew has on his front door. xoxo

@Barb ... I can understand your m-i-l's feeling about the standard grave arrangement being claustrophobic. What she didn't factor in is that the dead don't care ... but that being said, I'd love to repose in a sweet little mausoleum ... alas I think it's the grave for me ... there is never a good day or time to lock yourself out of anything, that's for sure. I locked myself out of my car years ago in Dayton, Ohio, of all places, on a winter day when I was running a court-filing errand for the Columbus law firm where I was a legal secretary. I was so embarrassed and TG wasn't exactly smiling when he drove 90 minutes to rescue me, haaaha xoxo

@Sally ... I lock my door on the side panel too! I read somewhere that thieves have a harder time getting into a locked car if you don't lock it with the fob as you walk away, which somehow they can intercept. At any rate, any time you get locked out, you feel like a dimwit. At least I do. xoxo

@Cheryl ... of course you're right, but somehow it felt like cheating, haahaa. xoxo