From My 'Sent Items'

I sent this email last night at 6:51 pm

To: All Office
Subject: To Whoever Locked the Front Door Tonight:

Hi. I was still here. In the bathroom, actually.

YOU LOCKED ME OUT.

The front door was decidedly UNlocked when I left. I know. I checked. I checked because I didn’t want to get, you know, locked out.

I should have taken keys, I guess, because I take my keys to the bathroom, oh. . . never. Plus, the door was unlocked, why do I need keys? (or an ID, or a cellphone or a blackberry, for that matter?)

The Superintendent’s Office? The people who come to let you get back in? Aren’t so speedy. Took them over a half an hour to get here.

[glaring angrily]

That is all.

--

I am so unbelievably pissed off about this, I can't even begin to explain. I'm reduced to a stuttering, apoplectic mess and little foamy bits of saliva go flying out of the corners of my mouth in random directions.

What I didn't add to the email was this: I have a very limited amount of time with my son during the week; he's awake for only an hour or an hour and a half after I get home. When I get home late, I sometimes miss him altogether. That 40 minutes I spent waiting in the hall for the Superintendent was time I could have spent with Lumpyhead. You robbed me of time with my child, you sorry-ass goddamn mutherfucker.

So. Mad.

The thing is, THERE WAS SOMEONE STILL IN THE OFFICE. This makes me even angrier, on several levels.

Part That Pisses Me Off Even Further, The First

The person still in the office didn't answer the phone, even though it rang 50 bazillion times. My first call from the Capitol Police Officer's station was, of course, to the office to see if anyone was still there. She said she didn't hear the phone. When I walked in - finally - and saw her there, I nearly murdered her with my bare hands. I'm still shaking a little from the restraint it took to not commit homicide.

Part That Pisses Me Off Even Further, The Second

The dumbass who locked the door wasn't the last one out.

Gah.