Staring down at the pile of papers before me, I tried to think clearly.  Girl, keep breathing I told myself.  I remained calm, thinking of a plausible way out of the current situation.  I was getting dangerously close to a full-on panic attack.

I have never been claustrophobic, at least not to my recollection, until today.  After working for hours in my office (really, the server room that they’ve jammed my desk into), in remarkably close quarters with Dan, who had the luxury of a chair (he was surrounded by giant storage containers, though, so it wasn’t that much of a luxury), it was time to go make copies.   I made my way through the store and up the stairs, avoiding clients as I went (mostly because I know nothing about the merchandise, I’m just the numbers person), and made my way to the copy room.  The copy room is a large closet, complete with copy machine and a tiny table for wrapping purchases.  I make the copies quickly, organize, and leav—- um… well, I tried to leave.  Whilst in the copy closet, a client had stacked some merchandise in front of the door, leaving me locked inside.  It was fine, at first.  I figured eventually she would decide what she wanted and move the merchandise. 

No.  That didn’t happen.  About fifteen minutes in, my heart began to pound and I grew dizzy (I have low blood pressure, so adding a panic attack usually lends itself to me passing out).  I quickly realized that knocking on the door, although somewhat rude, was better than everyone hearing the THUD! of me hitting the floor, most likely smacking my head on the copy machine on the way down.  I knocked to no avail.  She must have thought it wasn’t the door making the knocking sound, and this is forgiveable because the door is mostly hidden and could just look like part of the wall.

Okay, keep breathing.  There was a phone!!!  I pick it up, try to dial out.  No dice, it wouldn’t go through.  Seven minutes later, with spots before my eyes and my hands shaking, I decided the phone was the only option.  I could have (and almost did) start screaming, but it’s not the kind of thing that’s done in polite company and everyone was having a pleasant time outside at the sale.  I did not want to be responsible for chasing away customers.  It took me about ten minutes (maybe?  It seemed to take forever) to fix the phone.  The cables weren’t plugged in properly and as it was, the phone was all messed up and covered in sawdust.  Finally, a dial tone, but the number 9 was apparently malfunctioning, so I couldn’t dial out of the store.  Hmmm…

Finally, I saw a small piece of paper with this written on it “JB 3052″.  JB = Jules Barker, the data entry guy and sales associate who usually sits at the front desk.  We usually get along great, unfortunately, there’s some weirdness going on (on his side of things), but he was going to have to get over it. I dialled, it rang, he answered.

“It’s Girl, I’m claustrophobic and you have to come let me out.”  JB, funny one that he is, was thoroughly confused, “Out of your office?”  “NO, I’m in the copy room.  Hurry.  Right now.”  Then, I almost lost it - the tears were about to start and I had to blink them away.  I heard the commotion of him getting up and sprinting to where I was and as he moved the merchandise as fast as he could.  He flung open the door and I ran straight out, colliding with him in the middle of a bunch of clients.  I didn’t care.  It took a bit for me to stop shaking.  We didn’t speak at all.  I grabbed my files and quickly went to see why Dan had never come look for me.  Poor guy thought I had deserted him and he was up to his eyeballs in reconciliations.  I relayed the story while checking all his work.  He apologized and I could tell he was serious, even though it was a completely ridiculous story.  We worked for about ten minutes before he cracked up laughing… Yeah, Dan’s awesome.