We were sent today for a lady too dizzy to get out of bed. There were elaborate instructions given about where the key was in the garage. We searched for about fifteen minutes with no luck. It was dark in there and dusty and there were mouse traps everywhere. We saw two neighbors come over and hoping they had a spare key we stopped searching. They didn’t have a key.
We are standing in the breezeway then between the house and the garage. I look and see the kitchen window is open about ten inches. Very easy to stick my hand in and open it all the way.
One of the neighbors says, “I’ll climb in, I’m smaller than you.”
I am about to say okay because I have to admit lately, I have been deferring on some of the lifts to younger partners and first responders. If they want to lift, why not. I’m fifty years old, let them break their strong young backs. But then I think one of the great joys in this job is the chance to legally break into houses. I love going through windows. This one is easy. It doesn’t even require a boost up other than standing on a low table. Through the window, onto the counter top, spin my legs around, and down to the floor, then go open the door. “No, I’ve got it,” I say. “Thanks, though.” I’m not ready for retirement.
Piece of cake. Goes just like I thought. I open the door and let eveyone in and we all go to find the dizzy lady.
She is in the back bedroom. “You found the key?” she says.
“No,” I say. “We couldn’t find it, so I came in through in the kitchen window.” (No I didn’t say the last eight words like Joe Cocker doing the Beatles).
“Wow, you must be incredibly nimble.”
“Yes, Mame, all part of the job.”