The Lost Keys
This is something that happened to me a couple weeks ago, but unfortunately I am still experiencing the negative repercussions of this event and it still pisses me off. Unlike the vending machine incident, the frustration that resulted from this was directly caused by my selective memory and stupidity.
So after work I decided to go tanning and it started off as any other normal tanning session. After I was done, I was sweaty, hot and ready to just go home. As I gather my belongings in the little tanning room, I realize one thing is missing – my keys. Where the fuck were they?
Now keep in mind this room is very, very small. It’s a Hollywood Tans salon, and for anyone that’s been there, you’ll know that the size of these rooms give you just enough room to barely turn sideways, so there’s really not much space to search. I check my bag, nothing. I check the entire proximity of this very “large” area. No keys. I’m usually a scatterbrain when it comes to my keys, and misplacing them is something I’m all too familiar with - but at this point, I was starting to worry.
Suddenly it hits me. I must have left them on the counter. It’s a bad habit…when I come in, I have the keys in my hand and I put them down on the counter while I’m getting looked up in the computer and they’re scanning my finger to verify my identity (yes, I’m totally serious. When it comes to determining who you really are, Hollywood Tans does not rely on driver’s licenses, or the fact that the same employees see you all the fucking time - only your fingerprint. It’s easier to be underage and purchase alcohol than use someone else’s tanning account at Hollywood Tans. Makes perfect sense. They really protect that shit.) Anyways, sidetracking a bit.
So I leave the booth and go to the counter and there is nothing there. I ask the girls behind the desk if they found any keys, because I’m retarded and can’t seem to find mine. They haven’t seen any. I go outside, maybe for some unknown reason I decided to drop them in the parking lot. Nope, nowhere. Not in my car either (sorry, but if you do that and you’re sober, you’re dumb.) I completely empty my purse, and they’re just not in there. I go back in the salon and search some more, by now the girls start to feel bad for me because they help look with me. They start telling me stories about how people leave their keys on the counter all the time, but I still think they were just trying to make me feel better about the whole situation…because we all have come to realize the alarming truth – my keys were gone.
So I’m stranded at the tanning salon. I remember that my other key for the car is with the valet at my complex, so I go to call Joe and ask him to get the key and come in his Delorean so that he can give me the key. I take my cell phone out…and of course, it’s dead. As if these people don’t already think I’m stupid enough, I now have to ask to use their phone because I’m too dumb to keep mine charged.
As I dial his number, I remember something: we live pretty close to the tanning salon, but of course today, of all days, he decided to go to Miami to play poker with his friend. I knew how happy he’d be to receive this phone call from me. He answers, and of course he’s already on I-95 and on his way to Miami. I tell him the situation, and he tells me in a very “loving” way how “excited” he is about it all.
He also reminds me that the key I lost – complete with a panic button, clicky lock button and more – costs about $100 to repurchase. Fantastic, I love wasting money.
While waiting, I come to the conclusion that I must have left them on the counter, but someone decided to be a douche bag and take them. “I would just keep an eye on your car if I were you,” says one of the girls in a somewhat joking way. OK, great. As if I’m not experiencing enough anxiety at this moment.
I wait for a good half hour or so til he comes, gives me the key, and once again expresses how happy he is that I lost the key. I drive home in an angry rage. I get off work at 5:30, and after this entire ordeal, it was now a little after 8pm. Motherfucker.
And just when you think it’s over..
As I’m getting ready to go to bed, I get a call from Joe that he needs me to pick him up because when he came to the tanning salon, he accidentally ran over the curb, which resulted in a flat tire. No, not just a flat tire..but a completely destroyed tire that now needs to be replaced. I’m not really sure what this curb was made of, but alright.
But wait! There is a positive spin on this sad little story. As I’m leaving, I check my voicemails and I had one from the tanning salon – they found my keys. They were in the tanning booth, but on the hook that you hang shit on. How did any of us miss this? The sad thing is, I do not recall putting the keys there.
The moral of the story: Being stupid and forgetful costs too much money.
Posted: Friday, October 3rd, 2008 @ 7:45 am
Categories: Uncategorized.
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