Key Issues
I was headed east across the 520 bridge yesterday to visit a client in Kirkland and got a call from my Milwaukee client that something was awry with some sales reports that I wrote and maintain. (I have a wireless Jabber-a earpiece, so skip the sermon.) I knew what the problem was, and that I could fix it pretty quickly if I could only get online for a few minutes.
As yesterday was MLK day, the bridge traffic was relatively light, and I arrived in downtown Kirkland about 20 minutes early. I espied a wi-fi-equipped cafe, and decided to take a shot at repairing my SQL query over a fresh macchiato.
As it turned out, my Milwaukee client’s server was malfunctioning, and my shot at the repair fluttered like a Bret Favre desperation pass.
On top of that, in my rush to grab my laptop from the car and hustle into the cafe, I must have interrupted some subliminal car-driver rhythm, because I realized, after shutting down my laptop, that I’d locked my keys in the car.
Thus began the Talks of Shame: the first, a call to my Kirkland client, who was gracious enough to drive down and pick me up at the cafe (I had 3 hours of parking, and maybe more if there was no enforcement on MLK day); the second, to the freshly-awakened Mrs. Perils to inquire as to her availability to drive over to Kirkland with an extra key, so I could avoid the God-knows-how-much cost of a sarcastic and condescending locksmith.
In retrospect, my attempt at levity when Mrs. Perils asked where my car was (”parked outside my girlfriend’s condo”) could probably have been phrased differently. Mrs. Perils is, however, a great humanitarian, and she braved the wilds of the Eastside to rescue me. I didn’t even have to buy her coffee.
But if I had asked for coffee, you would have gotten it for me, right? And I parried his “levity” with my own, as in, why didn’t you ask one of the kids walking by to break into it for you? They had the day off from school, after all.
Phrased differently? As in “outside the gift shop where I was shopping for you?”
And she should have gotten coffee and a scone out of it, at least.
I’m thinking you did not take appropriate advantage of that opportunity that KathyR suggested…it could have been perfect, Phil! Now, when the situation is right, again, you’ll be stuck with an old opportunity that was bouncing ’round your head…”if only I’d bought her that scone, if only I’d purchased that nice new set of climbing gear, if only I’d congratulated her for the climbs she made…”
Well, I don’t make a lot of noise about it, but I think I quietly hold up my end here. One thing you might not know: I save all of my pretzel and nut snacks from my plane trips, and present them to Mrs. Perils at those times when the gardener is on holiday in Cabo and I sense that she’s feeling a little underappreciated. I leave them anonymously on her keyboard and pretend not to observe, but I can tell it perks her up.
Great entry, Phil — it resonates on *so* many levels. Keys, and their whereabouts can be a compelling issue for married couples. I’m remembering the time when our boys were very little and we dropped my beloved husband (their equally-beloved father) off at the airport, where of course we all had to go in so we could watch the airplane take off and wave goodbye…to Daddy who still had the car keys in his pocket. And your jokes about the girlfriend and the gardener…our line is that I sleep with the gardener and my husband sleeps with the maid. Our home-maintenance routine really brings down the rest of the neighborhood — most of them have mow and blow teams, cleaning crews…and, ironically, gym memberships so they can stay fit. Feh! And the airplane snacks? Currency equal to gold in the marital relationship around here. Extra points go to small packages of cookies gleaned from hotel coffee service set-ups.
I say, well done, Mrs. P! The internet knows…you’ve got a scone coming to you
A very fine and funny story, phil.
I’ll have to put it in “the calorie bank”, carroll! It will compound itself into a cupcake…
As a serial car key loser & adulterer (only one of those statements is true), I wept for you. Great story, nicely told.