if you are a locksmith (or my husband) you might not want to read this.

It’s been a pretty eventful week here at the Impropers.  I’ve been a busy little bee getting shit done.  That’s what I do. GET SHIT DONE.

This morning, I was sitting here at my computer getting more shit done and the mister calls sounding very sheepish.  He says, “You’re going to kill me, but I need you to call a locksmith.  I locked the keys in the car and I have a meeting in an hour and it’s going to be pushing it.  I’m really sorry, babe.”

Now, you may be wondering what kind of ball-crushing wife I am for my husband to call me so tail-between-the-legs like for an honest to goodness mistake people make all the damn time.  Well, let me tell you why.

BECAUSE THE IDIOT DOES IT ALL THE DAMN TIME.  ALL the damn time.  I’m sorry for the screaming.  But, you guys, if you were in my head right now, you’d know some bolded capitalized letters here is the understatement of a lifetime.  My blood pressure is through the roof.

Again, you might be thinking, “Jeez, Kel.  Cool it.  It’s not that big of a deal.”  And you might be right.  IF- and hear me when I say if, please- IF I hadn’t also just locked the keys in the car this past weekend and had a little experience of my own.

You see, I took Elle to a birthday party at a skating rink about a half hour away on Sunday.  I hadn’t had lunch yet so I took her in and then went back to the car to eat in some peace and quiet.  When I got out of the car…blah blah blah. Locked out.

So, I called the man (the husband) and told him what an idiot I am and asked for some help.  He said, ask someone that works there for a wire hanger and then see if you can get someone to help you.  Fine, I will humiliate myself and do that.  I got the hanger.  Everyone who worked at said skating rink was 12.  There were two men at the rink.  One was 80 and one looked like he just got out of the federal pin for pretending to help a woman get the keys out of her car and then sticking her in his van and taking her across state lines for god only knows what.

So, I called the man again and said he was going to need to get his ass of the couch and COME HELP A BITCH OUT.  Which he did.  Along with his dad.  Which I am forever grateful for.  Thank you, dad.  NO THANK YOU, JIMMIE.

Fast forward to today, because this is where it gets goooood.  I maintained my decorum and was the nice wifey.  I called a locksmith.  He said he’d have someone call me right back.  Seven minutes lapsed and I called another locksmith.  Because we are on a time crunch for an important meeting.  That person was on their way before I even hung up the phone.  And they were $15 bucks cheaper.  They win.

While on the phone with hubby, first  locksmith finally calls.  I miss it.  I call back.  No answer.  I call back again.  No answer.

Phone rings 5 minutes later and some *ahem* not very good English speaking person (no problem there, except I couldn’t totally understand him.) starts YELLING at me.  “WHY YOU CALL SO MANY COMPANIES TO GET YOUR HUSBAND’S DOORS UNLOCKED LADY??”

I said, calmly, “Because the number I initially called did not call me back for over 10 minutes.  By the time you called me, someone else had already returned my call and was on the phone with my husband already almost there.  And don’t you ever call yelling at a potential customer.  I’m sorry for the inconvenience for you, but this is poor customer service and you are RUDE.”

He said, “Oohhhhh Drama Queen, huh?”

I said, “You haven’t begun to see drama queen you pathetic son of a bitch.  Go to hell.”  (Or something like that.  I don’t completely remember because I think I was in the middle of a stroke my blood pressure was so fucking high.”

Drama Queen?  You damn right you pansy ass little door unlocker.  And I have your phone number.  I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN.

Whew.  Okay, I am okay.  I will not maim and destroy poor locksmiths.  I will not lose my shit.  I will not lose my shit. Peaceful Zen thoughts and Xanax to begin now.

Aaaannnnd I’m off to Walmart for a freaking magnetic hide-a-key thingy.  And our next car will have keyless entry.  And AAA.  And anything else that will get my idiot husband into his car without costing over fifty bucks a pop.

Pass the Tylenol.

10 thoughts on “if you are a locksmith (or my husband) you might not want to read this.

  1. Back when I had a different car and a husband, he managed to lose the only key to my car. I’d had an accident, gotten a rental car, and the insurance adjuster was coming out to the house to look at the damage to the car. I left the key – the ONLY key – to my car on the counter for him, in case the adjuster needed it. He was unemployed at the time, and even then, I had to beg and plead with him to deal with this issue for me. Stupid me didn’t immediately ask for the key back when I got home. We got the car fixed, returned the rental car, could not find the damn key. We tore the house apart looking for it. Figured it must’ve somehow got mixed up in some junk mail and taken out with the trash. Had to have my car towed 30 miles to the closest Dodge dealership to have them break into the car and replace the key. It cost somewhere around $250 for the tow and the new key.
    Several months later, we were having a garage sale. I was sitting in my folding chair in the garage, happened to tilt my head back, and found the key. It was at the bottom of a bag of plastic bags that I hadn’t gotten around to recycling yet. They were hanging on a peg just inside the garage.
    I’m still pissed about that whole thing, and it was YEARS ago. I feel your car key pain!!!

    • Ouch. I hate it when things are hiding in plain sight!

      We got our car a little while ago. The dealer was supposed to send us additional keys I think and never did. We have talked about going to get spares made a million times. He always just has a little system he uses in getting into the car. (because, yes, as I said, he does this ALL the time.) For some reason today he didn’t have time to do that. If I’d known it was going to cost me fifty bucks I would have been a little more proactive! It will take me approximately five minutes after he gets home to get my happy ass out the door to get a spare.

  2. I used to lock my keys in the car often when my twins were babies, too much to remember when getting out of the car. Even had two firetrucks come to the Walmart paking lot to save me because I locked both 2 year olds in the car with my keys, that was a fun one. However,we found that most insurance policies cover it as roadside assistance. Now in the much more rare event of locking the keys in, we have a locksmith’s # saved on the phone who is very good and we don’t worry because insurance pays.

  3. That is the worst! I hate it when people try to confront me on the phone. It’s like your blood pressure is in your ears and all you hear is curse words through a tunnel!

    I am glad you got reimbursed from your auto insurance!!

    • That is the best description of the phone confrontation! BEST!
      Thanks- I am SO glad we get reimbursed too. I was so sad because I finally have some extra cash to have fun with and it keeps going to idiotic things like that. YAY Progressive.

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