Keys are in My Pocket
I’m greeted by a girl who was such a dear helper, determined to be my right hand. She’s probably about twelve and is very strong. She’s determined to get my boxes unloaded from the car, and she really was a great help. Chattering while she works, she’s so excited about the new books and says she will read them all. My favorite audience!
While I set up my display and connect the video trailer to their system, she volunteers to go to my car for one forgotten item. She comes back proudly with the item in her hand. She tells me she might have locked the keys in the car. I didn’t really think she had. My car has a feature that makes it difficult to do so. I’m not worried about it and try to relieve her concern. At the end of the visit, we haul the boxes back to the car. It turns out she was right.
A janitor, who also has a bit of a learning disability, shows up with his “tool kit.” It’s a scary looking conglomerate of tools ...
I crawl into the passenger side of my van, vault over the center console, and slide under the wheel, painfully hyper extending these old knees. The driver’s door can open from the inside but not the outside. At least I can get out at home! I left the car at the dealer’s for the next week at a cost of $300. (Roughly, ten times my earnings for the day.)
What did I learn on this trip? I learned to keep the car keys in my pocket at all times and never trust a janitor with a tool kit.