Troublemaker

One of the surprising things about me is that, despite my sweet appearance and mostly-sweet demeanor, I tend to create a stir.

It surprises me too, sometimes.

I had my ACLS (Advanced Cardiac Life Support), recertification class this past week, my 5th or 6th time taking it, and this one was definitely the most exciting. It started with an argument, and ended with an emergency-exit door alarm. 

Both were my fault.

Right, so let's dig in. On paper, the class started at 8am. As my last post explains, they don't accept latecomers. And they really hold that line. When one of the participants entered the classroom where we were sitting waiting to get started—because, really, we had not started; the instructor was still logging into the computer, and that part is not a step in the ACLS algorithms—and was told she had to leave, I was pretty peeved on her behalf. [Probably because of my experience being late a couple weeks earlier; also likely influenced by an experience my first semester in college when I got to class a few minutes late, started to do the required quiz, and when the TA asked if anyone needed more time, in response to my raised hand, told me that he couldn't give me any. like, if you couldn't offer more time, why did you?]. I stood up and left the room, took a couple breaths as I listened to the latecomer argue her case to the instructor, then walked back in to demand why the heck it would matter if she stayed.

Obviously the deep breaths didn't help much, and just as obviously, my interjection made the instructor mad at me. She continued to use a heavy-handed approach, and I continued to retort back with the fallacies of her statements. For a couple minutes, I thought it might work--she redirected her anger to me rather than the latecomer, and told the latecomer to take a seat while she called her boss--but then returned a bit later to inform the poor woman that she had to leave.

I didn't press any more arguments (partly from not wanting to be kicked out myself, partly because I kinda knew I couldn't change her mind, especially after she had talked to her boss), and once the Unfortunate One left, the rest of us presented the illusion that nothing had happened, and we finally actually started the training. [During one of the breaks, though, one of the other participants asked aloud if it had been a skit, and if someone was supposed to have had a heart attack that they then had to manage per the ACLS algorithms.]

The training proceeded, hours later we finished up with entering our contact information to receive the completion certificate, and I was ready to go.

But I don't think the building was ready for me to leave.

From the look of it, the structure was a Cold War era monument, and must not have recovered much occupancy after the work-from-home revolution. That meant that the signs were old, often led through empty hallways  [actually, they always led through empty hallways. I literally did not see anyone else there once I left the classroom], and may have been constructed as a maze. (Oh good retail opportunity: remarket the building as an Escape adventure). I didn't see the elevator bank, so I found some stairs. I had to back-track, though, after encountering a solid glass wall directly at the foot of one of the stair landings--which was so stupid; I could tell the stairwell continued, but I couldn't get there. I tried following exit signs, which led me to a different stairwell, and I really had hope for this time round, except that all of the doors off of that stairwell were locked--including the one I had come from. Okay, all the doors except one--the fire door. I tried not to--I went back up the stairs and tried all of the doors again, looking through all of the door windows to catch anyone's attention, but came up with nothing. So I went back down, hit the crash bar of the door which immediately sounded the klaxon, and walked out pretending like I couldn't hear what was going on behind me.

Oh, and it didn't stop even when the door closed.

It's like my inner child is fire.