A little annoyed is a understaement. A huge understatement. If it was any more under it would be popping out in Australia.
The day was going well, I had got up and had gone on a nice run only to pause at the end to wait by Victoria Station to see the Steam train depart. And by George what a departure, the smoke and steam that bellowed from the heart of the engine that was whisked by the mild wind was truly extraordinary. One minute the locomotive was there the next it was wrapped in a blanket of her own doing, and with a high pitch whistle and a slow ‘Chud Chud Chud’ the curtain of smoke lifted to reveal the shiny black boiler of a truly beautiful machine, and with another blow and large exhale of smoke it began to move, picking up speed and filling its path with glorious black and white clouds, and as I watched it vanish into the distance I thought what a thrill it would have been seeing these engines in a station every day and with that thought fresh in my mind I carried on running back to my house, for the nightmare that was about to happen.
By the time I got back to my house and reached for my keys, all I wanted to do was get back in, but my key fob had other ideas… the electronic button that allows me to open my door had decided to disconnect itself from the circuit board thus preventing the radio waves to transmit the signal to the door. I was outside, in shorts a little muddy as I had run through a park and all I wanted to do was the put the kettle on. My housemate was alway and I was not about to buzz other flats asking if they would be so kind as to allow me into the complex. I circled the building trying the doors, waiting outside for people to leave so I could gain access.
Eventually I got in, and straight into my flat to phone the agents. No answer. They seem to think that working Saturdays is beneath them. I phoned the emergency line. ‘Sorry can’t help you, don’t have a spare key’ Can’t help, can’t help so I am now trapped, no wait I am now imprisoned in my house I have no way to get back in so you’re telling me to sit tight till Monday when the office opens again. The response was simple and like the steam engine caused me to expel a lot of steam. ‘Yes’.
Yes, Yes, Yes…. You mean to tell me there is noting you can do. ‘No Sir, I don’t have access to the office as I’m just a sub contractor, if you were locked out of your flat then I could let you in by changing your locks’.
Well that was good to know, as if and when I was ever in that situation I would know whom to phone. ‘I could call a management person but that is £125.00 call out charge’.
£125.00 for what, coming to the office which should be open and opening the key cupboard to give me a new key is going to cost me a third of my weekly wage. This was not a good start to the weekend. After being pissed off yesterday and extremely annoyed in the evening I thought that after listening to Stereophonics I was in a good mood and felt good, felt fit and had enjoyed my run, seen a bit of history puffing through Manchester and was looking forward to the holiday, the holiday that was the first one in 11 years. But now my evil key fob had decided to bring me smashing down to the ground so quick that I had to take time out to put boots on to kick objects, so I didn’t break my feet.
I decided to agree to the £125.00. I have to, my housemate is away, I’m working tomorrow, and when I return from holiday my housemate will be working and it will be the weekend again and I need that fob to gain access to my apartments front door. With a fob I can’t go out, I can not leave my house. Some my argue that is worth £125.00, others and this includes my good self will argue that the agents should drop the call out as it was there equipment that has failed and thus not keeping to the terms of the tenancy agreement.
So to say that I am little ticked off is an understatement. Thats £125.00 that I never had, I can’t afford that money, that was holiday budget money. March is going to be a hard month as it is with insurance, MOT and Car service and the fact that I have no income until the middle of April does not bring me any happiness. I also have a hotel to pay for and petrol to put in my little car, credit card to pay plus the electric and water.
So at the moment if you imagine me as a cartoon, I am slowing burning with anger and as I type away at the board in front of me that anger seems to be for ever-growing. Hopefully at 4 O’Clock when the new fob arrives I will have calmed down and treat myself to seeing the Steam Train pull into Victoria, but for now I am one angry guy who is finding it hard not to throw this portable computer across the room.