Lock-out, Cop-out!

Prior to coming to Thailand, I was a Resident Director in charge of facility operations for a large, urban, religious-affiliated university. In a very condensed summary, this job required me to handle health and safety inspections for on-campus residents, as well as safety and security for all the residents in the hall. My favorite part about the job had to be the “live-on” component, especially when it included pages or fire alarms at 2:00AM, and because it also required me to bring ALL of my guests past the front desk student-workers; the very same students I was in-charge of supervising. At one point, a good friend and co-worker told me that this experience would change my outlook on operations management, and other facility related issues. We always joked around that one of us would be the first Resident Director to start a fire, or have a carbon monoxide leak in their unit. I didn’t believe her until just recently.

One of the things that my previous job entailed was a lockout. We had a staff of student workers who were responsible for after-hour lockouts of residents who had been locked out of their residence hall. In my two years of living on-campus in my Resident Director position, I had managed to not lock myself out of my apartment. Sure enough, after just six weeks of living in Lampang, Thailand, I managed to do the most embarrassing thing ever. I locked myself out of my apartment.

A little background for you about Thailand locks. Each apartment has a standard door lock with a key. In addition to this, the door also has a metal clasp similar to that which you will find on a utility shed or toolbox. As the resident, you are welcome to add security to your apartment with the use of a padlock. Following suit of the other residents in the building, I bought a padlock about a week after living in Lampang.

Thursdays are usually my day that I start late. I don’t have class until 13:00PM. I will usually go in at 08:00AM, put in some face time by completing lesson plans, grading assignments, and then I jet out to have a long lunch, before returning for my class that afternoon. This past Thursday, I decided to stop home because I had forgotten my mobile phone, and I was anticipating a phone call from a friend. I stopped off to have coffee, and then I went home to retrieve my phone. No sooner had I clasped my padlock shut on my door, do I realize that I do not have my keys - $&@%!

Checking my pants pockets in triplicates, I am confirming that my keys are not on me. My keys include not only the keys for my apartment, but also the keys for Bixby. Needless to say, I am stranded at my apartment building until I can get my keys out of my apartment. I shamefully walk downstairs to my local lobby lesbian, at which point I begin to explain to her that I have locked my keys INSIDE my apartment. Either the concept of INSIDE was not registering with her, or I was doing an inefficient job of explaining the dilemma. In any case, after about 10 minutes of explaining this situation, her and I are finally on the same page. She tells me that she will be calling the engineer. If there is one thing I’ve learned in nearly six weeks of living in Thailand, it is that any preconceived notions of any word or word association that you once had – throw it out! It might translate in words, but the concept will most likely NOT be the same.

Sure enough, 10 minutes later, the engineer shows up. The engineer is two twenty-something guys equipped with fanny packs and makeshift tool belts, blazing in on a Honda Dream, circa 1945. Not wanting to judge on looks alone; I continue to remain positive with my thoughts. We escort them up to my unit, and they assess the situation. They check the padlock and ask about the keys. Again, I explain that the keys are INSIDE the apartment, and that any spare sets are also INSIDE the apartment. They dig into their canvas fanny packs and pull out what can best be described as an old container to hold reading glasses. However, instead of reading glasses, the container houses “lock-picks.” Now, I am not an avid lock-picker, and in my old job I had a key ring that only an engineer or tradesman could empathize with. These “lock-picks” can best be described as old wires that come in various circumferences, each having a look on the end to hold while picking.

I continued to remain hopeful, after all, maybe there’s more tools in the … Honda Dream? The engineers try to pick the lock for a solid 45 minutes. I see them pull out every possible old wire with a loop, and still remain unsuccessful. In my mind, I keep wondering – where’s the lock cutter? I was never one for tools, though Home Depot is my favorite store for other reasons, but I do know that there is a tool called a “lock cutter”. It cuts locks, chains, and other thick metal devices. In my mind, I am envisioning that this secret gem of a tool is simply hiding somewhere and will soon magically appear. As we begin to round a solid hour of “picking,” I am asked if it is alright to break the lock. Screaming in my mind, “ Just get me INTO my apartment!” This inner exclamation translated into a non-verbal head-nod and smile. At this point, the one guy sends the other guy down to get something. “FINALLY,” I’m thinking, “the lock-cutter!” The guy returns, carrying a metal hammer and a large rod. It’s at this point that I call a co-worker at school and let them know that I might not make it back for my class. After all, it is nearly 12:00PM and class is slated to start at 13:00PM (I say slated because nothing starts on time here).

And so the pounding begins. Two guys armed with nothing but a hammer, a metal rod, and an old rag pounding incessantly at the padlock. Again, my previous job was in health and safety inspections. In that time, I’ve seen college students do some pretty stupid things, especially when it came to avoiding the $25 lockout fee. But this – this won out! Not wanting to catch metal shrapnel in the eye or any other body part for that matter, I find myself outside the hall massaging my temples as a headache is most-definitely on its way. Rounding the 2 hour mark, and encroaching the 13:00PM mark, the engineers finally succeed in busting through the padlock and granting access to my apartment. At which point, I discover that they require 150 Baht ($5) for services rendered. Thankful that the fee is minimal, I hand them the Baht, and send them on their way.

I quickly grab my keys from my desk, and head back to school. With only minutes to spare, I arrive at campus to administer a midterm for my students. During the test, I had time to reflect upon the previous experience. My initial reaction with the situation was anger and frustration toward the engineers. I wanted to know where the lock cutter was, where was the master set of keys, where was their expertise in picking locks? I wanted to know why it took a solid 2 hours out of my day. I had to step back and realize that this whole situation was my own doing. I was the one who didn’t check to make sure I had my keys prior to leaving. I was the one who is accustomed to living in a culture with modern amenities, and tools that might be unavailable here. I was the one who didn’t plan accordingly and grab my mobile phone before heading to work. And what’s worse – the reason I went home to get my mobile, the phone call I was expecting; they never called!