I cannot get into my office for days now. My card isn’t working. I hope someone here knows how to fix this.
Let me, however, provide you with what happened first.
It was the peak of the busy season for auditing firms.
I will tell you one thing about audit: it’s damnably frustrating and hectic. Instead of preparing the schedules, subledgers, Trial Balances, and all related documentations ahead of time, our clients would usually wait until the audit period to start fixing their books. So as one delay causes another, our works would all stack up near the end of the season.
We were complete in attendance at the office that time, determined to finish the scheduled tasks for the week. I had two engagements: one was a sugar central, the other was a non-profit foundation. My senior had just resigned so all critical tasks were assigned to me.
Around midnight, all of us were so sleepy and irritable that the Officer-In-Charge suggested we all go out for Starbucks. Of course, all twelve of us concurred happily.
I was never a café person, so each time we get to Starbucks I’d order the same coffee. I remember years before how I would literally shake every time the barista takes my order. Such was the insecurity of people who grew up in the provinces.
Afterwards, I and my officemates quickly got back to our building.
The memory is still perfectly lodged in my mind that I can recall the specifics of the event. The guard on the parking lot had just returned to his post after the midnight roving, his reflector vest stinking from unwashed days of use. I could also remember seeing the exit of the second shift and arrival of the graveyard shift of call center agents on the other buildings. It was sometime after twelve, after all. There was the usual chatter and bustle of tired people either going home to sleep or setting out to drink.
Our building, on the other hand, was as quiet as a dirty secret.
Unnerved after nights of staying late in our area, we simply directed ourselves to the elevator. The machine could take a thousand kilograms, and most of my officemates were light. Thirteen of us perfectly fit inside. We’ve done that lift more times than we could count already. We have never experienced any problem before.
Until that night.
Our office was in the sixth, and the lift was occupied exclusively by us that moment. Without any interference and to our surprise, the elevator stopped at the third floor. We tensed inside, knowing full well that the specific floor was deserted. The door slid and stayed open for a while.
The buzzer suddenly rang, signifying that the elevator was beyond carrying capacity.
We screamed and screamed inside, huddled to a corner. I was never a superstitious person so as I cringed back, I ventured to stare at the darkness outside the sliding doors. I could see nothing and nothing.
A few moments later the buzzing stopped and the door slid to a close. The elevator drove upwards. It didn’t stop till the sixth floor.
We went out and directed ourselves to our office. The door was equipped with an electronic lock. I scanned my ID to open it—much to our frustration, the door beeped and told me my card was unverified. I tried again and again. That wasn’t the first time my card misbehaved, but it was the only instance where it didn’t work after multiple attempts.
My officemates tried theirs, to no avail. Exasperated, we decided to ride back down to the guard and ask him to shut the main power for ten minutes. The electronic lock was designed to open a port for a manual passcode ten minutes after a power outage. It was the only way we could get inside.
Given the scare that we’ve endured on the third floor, all of us decided to go together. We waited as the elevator went back to our floor. When at long last it did, we found thirteen people inside. Our officer-in-charge stepped to join them, but the buzzer rang. Signaling that the lift was beyond carrying capacity.
He returned to us. We decided to wait.
Each time the elevator rounded back to us, however, it was filled with thirteen people. If one of us tried to join in, the buzzer would ring and the people inside would cringe back.
The stairs were broken when we checked them. All the windows boarded. Our calls can't reach anyone. We’re helplessly trapped in our floor.
Now, you know my problem. If only we could get inside our office. So please—someone fix my ID.
