Kim and I were working at our new condo in the former mental hospital – cleaning, getting the bedding right after our movers apparently delivered the wrong beds, arranging kitchen stuff that we will rearrange once the closet is converted into a pantry. Kim called me and said she was locked out of our bedroom. There was nobody in the bedroom, and no key or keyhole to get it open.
A quick inspection revealed that there is a button about the size of my fingernail on the outside of the doorknob, and it had been pushed in, locking the door. It probably happened when one of us left the room and closed the door. We checked the doorknob on the other bedroom and saw there is a lock button on the inside, to lock the door, but also a lock button on the outside of the knob. Why you would want to lock the door with nobody inside and no way to get in was beyond my limited thinking. The bathroom had a similar lock-out button. We were smart enough to test these buttons with the doors open so we could turn the knob from inside the room, freeing the lock.
But we still were locked out of our bedroom. We are on the third floor, so climbing in a window was out of the question.
The outside doorknob has a small hole – about large enough to insert a straightened paper clip or a small finishing nail. We found a nail, which I inserted in the hole and started twisting and wiggling. After about a minute, I heard and felt a click, the button released to its unlocked position, and I opened the door. Good for me!
Why someone would design or install such a lock is beyond me. I will file the incident under “Unnecessary Inconveniences,” right next to my struggles with small purchases, wrapped in plastic, that it takes a razor blade (or a hammer) to open – most recently: a new toothbrush.
On the other hand, it felt so good to hear and feel that rewarding “click” as, for the first time in my life, I jimmied open a lock. I’d never been much of a MacGyver, but I was for the rest of the day.
No comments:
Post a Comment