It’s finally here! My first day of work. Things started off pretty non traditionally with a 4pm call time. I can dig it, I was still exhausted from moving in and I’m pretty sure I broke 7 vertebrae while trying to lift what other people would consider easily movable. Is movable a word? The red squiggly line isn’t appearing so I’m going to call it a word.
Anyways, we were moving into a new office, so I basically had to help unload the moving trucks and bring everything up to our suite. Not really what I was looking forward to doing, but it was just one day on the job unlike all the others, so I was more than happy to help out…especially because I was getting paid as if I was at work for a full day. HOLLA. I also quickly learned that every day is casual Friday. Like I work with a dude who wears athletic shorts, those awesome, but kind of weird, and I never really understood how they were comfortable Adidas flip flops with a grunge band t-shirt. Everyday. And he is an awesome human being so I want to emulate his existence every chance I have. Which is every waking minute, so watch out world, a new Alex is coming to town. Just kidding, I feel like I don’t have enough interesting clothes to wear or enough will power to endure the pain of those Adidas flip flops. You all know what I’m talking about right? These bad boys:
No offense intended to anyone who enjoys rocking that particular footwear. I actually tip my hat to you for accomplishing a feat that I can’t quite manage to accomplish. Moving on, we finish moving in after 4 hours, I get to know everyone pretty well and I love the people I work with. They are such cool people who have been in the industry for quite some time and I have so much to learn from each and every single one of them. They were all in my shoes at one point, and they’re doing great! So that means that I’ll be doing great…right? I’m just going to make that assumption so I can feel better about my unavoidable doom.
We leave the office sometime between 8 and 8:30, I get back to my cousin’s house, and then I realize that I left my wallet in my car because I usually always have it in my hand and I definitely left the office with it. I go back outside to Percy (yes, my car’s name is Percy and he is awesome), and look all around, but still can’t find it. What the? I SWEAR I had it when I left work. I go back inside and check around all the pockets of my clothes, backpacks, and other various pouches I can find within a 5 foot radius. Which, in case you were wondering, didn’t consist of any various pouches. What do I decide I have to do? Go back to the office of course and see if I can find it there…I probably dropped it in the parking garage before getting in my car. Great. Now someone will steal my debit card with no money on it.
I go back to the parking garage. Nothing. Walk back to the building. Locked. DAMMIT. WHY? This is some kind of sick joke. Everything was looking up and then this happens. I manage to flag down a security guard who was roaming around on the inside and he probably thought I was about ready to rob the place due to my black hoodie and street rat aura. But it’s okay, this man, Tom, was a nice 70 year old man with an awesome mustache and offered to help me look for it, but I needed access to my suite. The access that I wasn’t getting until the next day. AWESOME. I beg just to go up and look through the door which happens to basically be a giant window and he obliges but tells me I can’t tell anyone or else he’s fired. I’m sure. Why would they hire a security guard who wouldn’t be able to chase down the slowest of criminals and still manage to fire anyone they hired? But I nodded my head and agreed with him just to make him feel important (let’s face it, he’s way more important than me with a key to this fancy building and all).
So we go up to the door and peer through. There it is. In all its glory. My wallet is sitting on the damn desk my butt was firmly planted on not even 30 minutes ago. It’s literally 8 feet away from my face smushed up against this glass and Tom has the key to make my world a better place. Does he open it? Of course not…”it’s against protocol”. Ugh. We go downstairs and he makes a few phone calls as yet another elderly security guard makes his way over to us.
This is Tom on the phone with his supervisor:
Turns out the other man approaching us is the actual security guard of this specific building and Tom was just making his rounds. Thank jesus because this man had some more attitude and I’m pretty sure he’s keen on rule breaking.
He tells me his name is Archie and he “does not follow the rules because life is a life or death situation at all times”. That was probably the deepest thing anyone has ever said to me and I’m not even kidding. It’s so true! Like what if life requires you to break a rule to avoid death or some other kind of treacherous fate like losing a wallet? This man is a certified genius in my book. Anyways, he goes on to say that he fought in Vietnam and he never listened to his Sergeant (is that the head of a troop…sorry I feel like I should know this), which is why he was the only man of his troop to make it out alive. Damn. This man has guts and I seriously appreciate him more and more each second. He even said “the way I see it, this building doesn’t own your wallet…you do. So why would we not let you take your own belongings? Ain’t nobody got time for that!” I am officially in love with Archie the security guard. I love old people to begin with, but this man was great. And I thoroughly enjoyed how his eyes were all saggy. Needless to say, I finally got my wallet back and thanked Archie a million times.
That was 2 weeks ago and I haven’t seen Archie since. I can only hope I didn’t get that man fired because all I really used my wallet for was to get In-N-Out on the way home. If your name is Archie, you fought in Vietnam, you have saggy eyes, and you are a recently fired security guard, please contact me ASAP so I can fight like hell to get your job back. Brothers for life.
Hand Model To Heartthrob 