The Lock
Last night Danny and hung out for a few hours. We started the evening off at the Bohemian Hall with a few of my coworkers. Then we headed over to my favorite local diner, Cup. We’d planned to visit a few other neighborhood dives, but stopped by my apartment for just a minute to drop off our bags. On the way out (and exactly how this happened is still a little fuzzy) Danny locked my apartment door from the inside. Confused, I told him you can’t lock it from the inside, as he closed the door behind us. That is when I realized that he had locked the bottom lock - the lock which I hadn’t used during the entire 7 years that I have lived in the apartment - the lock for which I was pretty certain that I did not have a key.
Already a little giddy and chuckling in disbelief, I fumbled around in my pockets to find the keys. Sure enough, I did not have a key to that particular lock. After standing around laughing at the predicament, I head up to the roof, to climb down the fire escape. As long as I hadn’t locked the window, I thought I might be able to climb through the window. Of course, the paranoid guy that I am, I make sure to close and lock the window each time I leave the apartment.
Slowly reality began to set in. We were locked out and since my bag was inside, I didn’t even have the super’s number. So then Danny and I went door to door, trying to find someone with the super’s number. Of course, no one answered their door. Finally the lady across the hall answered. I got the number and called the super. He didn’t have keys to the building. Figures.
Later, one of the neighbors gave us a telephone book. We started calling locksmiths. (Today’s lesson, class: Do not call blacksmiths listed in the telephone directory.) A few of the numbers were disconnected. A few of the places were closed. One place said they’d send someone out. Realizing neither of us had much cash on hand, we called back to find out how much this whole deal would cost. The guy said he couldn’t give a price without seeing the lock. (Man, we should have known what was getting ready to happen.) Danny, who was already a little belligerent, calls the guy back to find out what the absolute worst case scenario might cost. (Next lesson, class: Insulting a locksmith when you are locked out is sorta like asking a waitress to take food back to the kitchen while at a restaurant - not a good idea.) Over the next 45 minutes we ended up calling the guy 5-6 more times. Each time he said he was a couple minutes away. [The scene ended as Danny ran down the street to ATM and I waited in front of building for locksmith.]
When the “locksmith” finally arrived, he brought up his toolbox and took a look at the lock. He then dropped the bomb. He said it would be $85 to open the lock plus there will be an additional $65 service fee. Realizing the guy was taking advantage of us, I very nicely say that I was unwilling to pay that amount and that I appreciated his time for coming out. (Frankly, I’d rather slept on the roof than pay $150!) Then the guy had the nerve to say that he was Jewish and that he’d come out on Sabbath to help us out. He demanded that we pay him something. (Mind you, I am a monkey’s uncle if this guy was really Jewish.) Danny started to scream. Frustrated, but still calm, I explained that we had asked him to tell us how much it would cost before he arrived. Obviously, we were locked out and he was trying to take advantage us. He then said that I could call his boss if I wanted to try and get a discount. I explained that I didn’t want to talk to his boss. I wanted him to treat us fairly and if that was the best he could do, then he should really just leave. He then dialed his phone and disappeared for a few minutes. When he returned, he claimed that the boss will waive the service fee. We spent a few minutes going back and forth with “How much will you pay?” and “How much does it really cost?” Filled with guilt, Danny finally agreed to pay the $85. Apparently Danny didn’t hear the part where he said he might have to drill the knob.
The guy ended up pulling a drill out of his toolbox and destroying my doorknob. He stuck a flathead screwdriver in the keyhole and used vice grips to rip the door handle open. Some locksmith, eh? Danny threw the money in the floor and slams the door in his face.
Needless to say, today’s project now includes buying and installing a new doorknob.
August 21st, 2005 at 4:27 pm
I have soa been there, though for me, it was about 2 weeks after I moved to NYC, i was living in an illegl sublet, and I almosr burned the building down.