One of the many hats I wear at the office is of Floor Warden. This entails supervising about two dozen co-workers to assist in fire drills and emergency situations, and training staff on emergency procedures. I'm really good at this. I have attended a lot of different trainings and I am your "Go To Girl" in an emergency.
Following September 11th, training was stepped up (as you can well imagine). FBI, Secret Service, LAPD, Bomb Squad, Haz Mat teams all came and gave talks. What to look for. Whom to call. How to react. Keep yourself and your staff safe. You know the drill.
The week following September 11, my building had no fewer than five bomb threats. With each one I have my "team" search the floors and evacuate my staff to one of two safe spots. We then wait for an "all clear" from the building. It's a complex thing because in fact they never actually give the "all clear" because with more than five million square feet, it is virutally impossible to search the entire building. Each tenant is pretty much reponsible for policing their own area. So you have to use your best judgment.
The rule of thumb though is that staff is permitted to go home after the second bomb threat of the day. I will suggest it's a wonder we don't get more bomb threats.
All that said, come this morning. It's been a shitty morning since the get-go. I crashed the computer that runs my office security system. This resulted in no non-exempt employees having access to the office because their key cards didn't work. On the heels of this were no fewer than eight reports of HUGE cockroaches in the 9th floor ladies restroom. Following was a report that all the toilets in the 8th floor ladies restroom were clogged. OK ladies, go across the street to McDonald's to pee please until I can sort this out.
Fabulous day so far, no?
Well, then I go to collect my mail. Next to my mailbox is a box. It's a rectangular box. The address label is hand written (in sort of creepy handwriting). There is no return address. The box is taped shut with about 50 feet of clear tape and masking tape. And the box is quite heavy for its size. For any of you who know anything about letterbombs, this is a classic.
As the quintissential "Go To In An Emergency Girl" I remain calm. I put a note on the box for it not to be touched. I note the UPS tracking number. I call my boss. Hmmmmm. I go to UPS online and find that it was shipped from Baldwin Hills on Friday. I did not order anything. I have not purchased anything on E-Bay. It's getting weirder by the minute. My boss calls UPS. He explains the predicament. They assure him that it is against their policy to accept packages without an return address. And no, they cannot tell us who shipped the package.
I had to smoke. I'd been dealing with this for about two hours now. As far as I'm concerned there's a letterbomb addressed to me sitting in my mailroom. Monday with a fucking vengance.
Finally, about another hour later I get a call from my file cabinet vendor. It was some file bars that go with the file cabinets I just ordered. Hoookaaaay.
Thing is, had it been a letterbomb and had it exploded, I'm sure the fucking cockroaches in the ladies restroom would have survived!