I was at work, doing stupid work type things.
A stupid alarm was going off. A really annoying sound. Not really enough to piss me off…just enough to become annoying. A wheeep! followed by silence. Oh, the alarm must be off now — wheep!
I’m in the executive office at Force. Doing my thing back there.
I ask my Vietnamese crew — hey, did you guys (wheeep!) set off some sort of alarm? They answered no (I think, I dont’ speak Vietnamese…though truthfully, I think I speak better Vietnamese better than they speak English).
” Da (yes, his name is Da) get up on that rickety ladder and see where that (wheeep!) is coming from. Yes, I know it says not to stand on the top of the step ladder but they’re not serious. (wheeep). ”
Okay, great, you have actually found an alarm. Oh, it’s not attached to anything. Well, hand it (Wheeep) down. I think I know how to fix it.
I fix the errant alarm: I yank on the damn wires until they break and the thing shuts up. Done and done.
How come the fire department’s here?
Quick, Da, throw this horn back up in the ceiling! Now get down — don’t you know it’s dangerous to be on the step ladder’s top step? Silly, Vietnamese (except they’ve actually been in Canada longer than I’ve been around…and I still don’t know what they’re saying).
The fire department comes busting in. FOUR pump trucks arrive on the scene. Oh, and the Chief of Police.
Luckily, Da covers for me by quickly re-enacting me ‘fixing the alarm’. The Chief isn’t amused. I think it’s funny.
Something about ‘fire kills’.
“Did you, sir, disconnect a fire alarm?”
“Did you yank the wires out?”
“No, I cut them.”
“With wire cutters?”
I knew I was in deep at this point. The only way out of lying was more lying.
“I think Da did it.”
The firemen are still looking for a fire. There’s no
freaking fire, okay? Five guys are asking me questions. Seriously, I’M NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING TODAY. Okay, I was, but it’s a line that I always wanted to use.
They’re interviewing Da. They must speak Vietnamese because they seem to understand him. They’re back onto me. Something about ‘run me through my fire plan’.
Fire plan? I try to speak Vietnamese to throw him off the trail. No good, he still understands me.
I hope for a real fire.
No luck. The place isn’t burning down. I see citation books. Things being written. My name included. Papers handed to me…written in Fire-talk (something about certificate of blah, inspector of yak-yak).
2 HOURS of talk.
I used to want to be a fireman when I was five. I’m glad I never carried through with that goal. Because then I’d be wasting my day arguing with morons who cut fire alarms.
And that would suck.