Locked out
How much would you pay to get into your apartment? No, really. Oh, me first? Well, I’d pay $230 and I just did the other night. And that was only the half of it. See, I came home to find my lock busted (that was the technical term the locksmith used: “your lock is busted”). I don’t mean someone tried to break in or anything, just that it spontaneously broke down in a fashion that meant the key turned but nothing happened. As a matter of fact, that’s what I kept thinking in my head, “the key is turning! but nothing’s happening! what the fuck!” When they say New York is the “city that never sleeps,” what they mean is, there will always be someone at any hour willing to take advantage of the fact that it is late in order to charge you five times as much as the thing costs in the daytime. And that is in fact how it played out.
I knew there was a locksmith shop down the street and so I went there and called the number in the window. Within 15 minutes two cheerful guys showed up. If you imagine that they were cheerful because I looked like an easy mark, you would be correct. I mean, what could be more desperate than a person at night who just wants to actually get inside their home? These guys were Israeli and I pretended like I didn’t understand them as they talked amongst themselves so that if they discussed how much they could get away with charging me I could act like I wasn’t in on the whole thing. But naturally that idea collapsed once they saw the mezuzah on the door and one of them asked, “are you Jooweesh?” Then I had to say miserably in Hebrew, “yes, yes, I can understand you.” So I switched my strategy to try to get friendly and I bantered back and forth with them about where they were from (Tel Aviv) and where I’d been in Israel (lots of places) and where I got my mezuzah (my sister made it) and why my lock was busted (cheap). But of course none of this saved me and the fee turned out to be $65 for service and $165 for emergency entry.
“What’s that second one?” I asked.
“That’s to get you into your apartment.”
“I thought that was the service”
“No, that’s just to come here.”
“Yofi.” *
They weren’t even all that bright. One of them said, “let me ask you something. You’re smart and Jewish and nice [at this point I thought he was about to ask me out, seriously], why don’t you leave a key with a friend?”
“I do. I had my key. My lock is busted, remember?”
“Oh right.”
Then the hard-sell of expensive new locks came. When the figure of another $225 was mentioned, I think I just lost it. “No thanks,” I said. They were baffled. “You’re just going to have no lock?” But, you see, I have two locks, and the second one is better than the first. The busted one. As a matter of fact, I once had my nieces from the suburbs come over and they said, “why do you have two locks?” I didn’t even know how to answer that. It’s kind of like asking why we breathe air or why the sun shines. Plus it would have been hard to explain without making them fear someone was coming to kill us.
And so I shooed them away despite their ominous warning that another locksmith would charge me the $65 “just to show up” charge all over again whereas they and their expensive replacement locks were already here! But no, shalom, l’hitraot **… not. Then I taped over the hole in my door and left a message at my office that I’d be late the next day. It was kind of freaky sleeping with a hole in my door, no matter how impossible it would be for anyone to look in or get in or whatever. The next day I called around and guess what? A new lock was $225. Everywhere. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. What wasn’t universal was the $230 emergency visit cost, but it was too late to get out of that without canceling my check and, y’know, these guys kind of know where I live.
To make a long story short, Donovan the Jamaican guy came the next day (I got about ten minutes of work done before I had to turn around and go home to await him - but hey, the subway is a lot less crowded in the middle of the day!) and did a fab job. And he didn’t even charge me the $65 “pay me, I showed up” charge, just the $225 lock cost. And unlike the emergency guys, he didn’t try to push a lock even better than that one on me. When he offered and I turned him down, he just said, “it’s OK, your deadbolt is good enough anyway.” Go Donovan! His verdict on the busted lock, “well, naturally… see this? Made in China.” Oh right, no Chinese toothpaste or locks, check. “You know where this new one I’m giving you is from? Israel.” Oh, the irony. But at least they do know a thing or two about security.
So, final damage with tax? $471. And all I have to show for it is… exactly the same thing I had before. But at least I can see it from inside my apartment.
*beautiful, great
**see you later
Crowded House - Locked Out (Live)
