Have you ever been locked inside your small non-ventilated bathroom for over 2 and ½ hours? If you answered no, you have no idea.
We moved into an older rental house, and though I love it, it came with more then a few "older-home quirks". One of these being the doorknob on the bathroom – meaning it didn't work. When you shut the door you literally shut yourself in there.
At this point I put in maintenance request number 1. After three days there was no reply – not even an answer for one of the "quirks" (by quirks I mean heart attack inducing problems). So I called in maintenance request number 2…then nothing. Then 3 and 4…then I sat and I sat and I waited. Then two weeks later I had 2 and ½ hours to sit in the bathroom and wait.
I had innocently run home after work to change into jeans and flip-flops before class. I got home, threw off my heels, and took off my work pants. Before putting on my jeans I went to restroom. I had left the front door slightly open when I ran in. Of course universe enjoys laughing at me, so on a virtually windless day our front door was blown open causing the bathroom door I had left open to shut. I was now half naked and trapped in my own bathroom.
The first 15 minutes I was slightly panicked. I had no idea when Morgan (my boyfriend) was going to home since he thought I would be at class all night. Plus the front door was hanging open! Any whack-o could just come wondering in; at least I would be safely locked in the bathroom where they couldn't get at me.
The next 45 minutes I honestly found it very funny. I heard my cell start ringing and went to open door to grab it – then remembered that the door wouldn't open and suddenly found the whole situation very funny. It all felt very I Love Lucy.
Then for the next hour and half, I was very angry. It suddenly occurred to me that I Love Lucy was filmed on a sound stage, and that Lucy wasn't actually stuck in that situation. Fuck Lucy. And fuck my property manager – what kind of name is Joanie anyway?! I'm pretty sure she's not 17 and sleeping with Fonzi's kid cousin, maybe it's time to use a 'grown up' name, JOAN! You know what else JOAN?! Grown ups actually do their job!
It was at this point I stopped trying to pick the mechanism in the doorknob without breaking it. I wanted to break something. I wailed on that door, lost it on the knob and clawed at the hinges. This was all somewhat counter productive and achieved nothing but getting me sweaty and bruised. After getting sweaty I made the completely dumb assed decision to take a shower, thinking to myself,
"What the hell else am I going to do in this bathroom?"
After getting out of the shower it occurred to me that not only could I not open the door, but also there was no fan or window. The bathroom was rather steamy and quite warm. I was going to be very angry, sweaty and wet until I got that door open. The one up side to the steam bath was that it loosened up the rust that was holding the pins in the hinges of the door.
Eventually I was able to jimmy the hinges off using trimming scissors and tweezers, It was really very brilliant if I don't say so myself.
I'm am also now an authority on the informational booklets you get with tampons and birth control pills, so let me know if you have any questions.
The morale of the story is being patient with your property management company doesn't get anything accomplished. Sitting and hoping that your property manager isn't a piece of crap is a waste of your time. I had a lot of time to sit and think about these things in my bathroom, I should know.
Also you should always threaten to call the County Building and Safety commission, because then your doors will be fixed by noon the next day.
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