last night was my first time closing the store by myself. everything went fine until i tried to open the safe. xx-yy-zz. xx-yy-zz. it wouldn't open. i said the combo aloud like a kindergardener attempting to count apples. xx. yy. zz. no good. i crouched there for 15 minutes trying to "jimmy" open the safe. let's just say we have a quality safe.

"yeah, george?" i said to the retail manager over the phone. "you're not asleep, are you? because everything here went swimmingly tonight except for the fact that i can't open the safe."

"who is this?" george asked sleepily.

"jackie. from work. i can't open the safe."

"what are you, a fucking retard?" at least, that's what i heard him say. actually, he replied, "okay. i'll be right over."

xx-yy-zz. i thought of the movie safe men.

ever see that? maybe you should own it. there's a character in the movie that wears butt pads, because he thinks his butt is too flat. classic.

anyhow, back to my story. i'm in the office trying to crack the safe. xx-yy-zz. let's do it slower. xx.....yy.....zz. no luck. maybe if i do it backwards. zz-yy-xx. i've got a thousand dollars in cash lying on the floor beside me. the whole store is dark. george has not yet arrived, and i consider just taking the money home. then i could maybe keep the money if i tell the general manager that, upon walking into the parking lot, i was robbed by a gang of vicious orphans. with british accents.

xx-yy-zz. fuck.

i exit the office, and there's george pounding on the front door. "how long have you been here?" i ask, letting him in. "i thought you'd have a key."

"ten long minutes," he replies. "i don't have my key."

we walk into the office. george is in pajama pants; obviously, he had not been planning on having to help some dim-witted girl pop open a safe. he smells vaguely of pizza. i wonder why he didn't bring me any.

xx-yy-zz. it opens. i cry, "for the love of christ." i'd been half hoping that somebody had accidently changed the combination during the day, as then i couldn't be faulted. maybe vicious orphans could've snuck in here while i was in the crapper or something. i start to mention something about oliver twist. george says, "okay, let's go."

we leave. i thank him profusely. i get in my car, and, eager to get home, i slam on the accelerator and back out of my parking spot. doing so, i nearly crash into george's car, which is pulling out behind me. what a way to repay him. i give a small wave and carefully drive away. george is shaking his head.

i can't get a safe open, and today i'm going to a meeting on preventative opthalmic maintenance- as in taking care of the gadgets and machines the doctors and lab techs use. i'm considering telling the guy in charge that i can't even open a safe... even when knowing the code... so how the hell am i going to check that a big fancy machine is tuned to correct diopter increments?

fuck, man. at least i didn't hit george's car.