The Lockout, Part 1

When my wife and I arrived back home from our honeymoon, we moved in to our new house for the first time. About two weeks later, we locked ourselves out. I remember the date well, because it was the day we were celebrating my birthday (which was the day before my actual birthday).

As I am not actually a lockpick master, I didn’t feel like it would be a productive use of my time to try picking the lock. Instead, I called a locksmith. He said he’d be there in about 20 minutes.

I spent those 20 minutes sitting on the front porch feeling dumb.

After the 20 minutes were up, plus five or so of leeway, I called the locksmith again. He said “yeah, we’re on our way now, about 20 minutes.” I relayed this to my wife with dissatisfaction, but what’s a guy to do? I spent those 20 minutes pacing the driveway feeling frustrated.

After those 20 minutes were up, I called the locksmith again. He said he was on his way and would be about 20 minutes. I told him that this was unacceptable and that his services would no longer be required. He got angry at me and said, “But we’re on our way!” I just laughed at him and hung up.

Then I called a different locksmith. He said he was finishing up a job and I’d be next in line. About 20 minutes. I said, sure.

He arrived about seven minutes later. He said he didn’t realize how close to his previous job we were. He then opened the lock in less than a minute. He was very nice, and told me a story about when he himself got locked out in order to make me feel better about the situation.

I resolved to be extra sure to not lock us out again, and I also saved the number of that locksmith in case I failed at my resolution. I deleted the number of the other locksmith. Some say that to this day he is still on his way, just 20 minutes longer.

2 thoughts on “The Lockout, Part 1

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