25th June 2007
Hi all,
Had a ridiculously long fire drill at work last week, which in fact got to be so long and ridiculous that I felt it had to be chronicled here.
Before going into what happened I'll give you some background information. I work on the second floor of a shared building. There are five floors in all, and each company/floor hears a test fire alarm at 11am every Wednesday. The alarm is loud and erratic - no-one really trusts it.
In regard to the management of the building in among the plethora of faceless (and useless, in all likelihood) security guards there are three people we regularly see:
1) The building manager. He wears a shirt, suit and tie and tries to look smart. Unfortunately some of us know that his ties cost ?3 from Asda (erm, that'll be me - I wear the same ties, but in the course of my work I sometimes get dirty, so I can't justify spending lots on ties).
2) A bigger guy who seems to be the deputy building manager. He always wears a polo shirt which seems to be a size too small and sits behind a laptop, playing Solitaire all day long (that's what people speculate anyway). For reference purposes I tend to think of him as "Onslow".
3) A much smaller guy with short hair and a moustache. He tends to like putting on a fluorescent jacket and trying to look important, yet unquestionably looks like someone who doesn't fit in where he is (like me in any social situation, hurrah!).
Anyway, here's what happened:
10.58am. Two minutes ahead of schedule the alarm goes. And goes. And goes. It lasts for at least thirty seconds. My current desk is right under an alarm and the excessive nature of the test leads me to say, "Enough already!"
10.59am. The alarm stops on our floor, but we can still hear it faintly in other floors of the building.
11am. With the alarm seemingly at an end I carry on with my work.
11.01am. My phone call to another member of staff is interrupted by the fire alarm. Grr, another test it would appear! I try my best to carry on with the call.
11.03am. After trying to talk over the alarm for about two minutes I give up on the call and say I will call back. A few people pick up their jackets and start to head towards the fire exit. I do likewise, but I'm not frantic. Besides any other reasons the stairs are always jammed solid during a fire drill so hurrying now won't get me out of the building any quicker.
11.05am. Now outside. The earlier rain has now passed, but it isn't a pleasant June morning by any stretch of the imagination. No-one has brought any hot drinks with them, which is good as after the last fire drill we were told not to bring them downstairs with us. Apparently carrying liquid near a fire is a health and safety issue, something which I guess the Fire Brigade is stupid enough to ignore.
11.06am. Call Lorraine to let her know what's happening.
11.07am. The smallest member of the building staff is making sure all ground floor occupants are out. He's got his fluorescent jacket on and he's carrying a radio. We start to wonder if the radio is actually a working radio, or just a replica.
11.08am. My boss jokes, "If he drops that radio I'm going to tell him he's fined ?50." Just last week a girl in the office was fined for dropping a cigarette end on the street. While I don't condone littering I don't think the punishment fits the crime, having seen habitual thieves get away with less in a magistrates' court ('A' level Sociology, don't ask).
11.12am. We think we've figured out where the radio was bought from - the nearby branch of Poundland. We suspect it's made entirely of rubber.
11.15am. I spot a guy out in the area where we congregate for fire alarms who must work for another company in the building. He isn't wearing a shirt and tie, in fact he is wearing a throwback Braves road jersey from the mid-1980s. I'm ridiculously envious. He probably doesn't even know who Dale Murphy is.
11.20am. A good fifteen minutes after the alarm began, a big group of people come walking out of the building. Yes, it's a real alarm. Or so you would think, those of us who have been downstairs for ages still aren't sure.
11.24am. A colleague points out that the small man who works in the building reminds her of Manuel from Faulty Towers. Hmm, a Faulty Towers reference and a fire alarm. I can't resist temptation, briefly become American and quote, "I don't know why I bother, I should just let you all burn." Wasted. Clearly I'm the only one who liked Faulty Towers enough to buy the first series on DVD.
11.25am. Text Lorraine to let her know what's happening. "Still outside. Usual shambles in this building! At least it is dry now."
11.28am. The guy in the throwback Braves jersey is still there. I've looked over enough times to see that he has a t-shirt on underneath it, which means he won't miss it if I go over and ask for it. (You're right, I didn't go anywhere near him.)
11.30am. Amazingly yet another large group of people come out of a fire exit in the building. In a ridiculous turn of events, one of them is wearing an FDNY sweatshirt. I'd have picked that person to be the first one out in the event of any emergency. Unbelievable.
11.32am. The people in best spirits outside? The smokers. When fire alarms finish we should give out complimentary nicotine patches to help them recover from the chance to smoke three cigarettes in quick succession.
11.35am. Finally, mercifully, yet another false alarm ends and we can return to our desks. Hopefully we won't have another of these for quite a while.
Have a good week!
Tony
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