ENDING THE YEAR… Odds & ends (Part 167f)
I quickly flipped
the switch to turn off the light and backed out into the hall
pulling the door shut. I’d actually backed into Woody. I told her that
the room was a mess because no one had cleaned up from the previous day and
got her to turn around and head up the stairs. I hesitated for a few seconds with the
thought that I hadn’t taken the time to identify the two auditors or the
clothes they were wearing. As I started up the stairs I chastised
myself for missing the opportunity. By the time I started back up to the
first floor Woody was about half way to the top. She was wearing her
oatmeal colored pants and even though the light was poor I tried to
discern a VPL. I was hoping that if I could it would show she was
wearing a pair of the Sans Suocie panties I’d given her to try. By the
time she made it to the top I had seen a faint slightly curved line right
above where the legs of the pants were stitched together. A very small
victory. Once we were both at the top I told her I’d do my best to meet up
with her before the end of the day. As I remember it she didn’t seem
too concerned one way or the other.
At that point I was tempted
to stay by the stairway to find out just who the ‘players’ were. It was
Lorie who came up to me telling me there was a problem opening the front
door. When the bank was remodeled and the second floor added the one
thing that was left as original was the front entrance. Two incredibly
heavy and ornate brass doors had been determined to be serviceable. Once
opened they led to a fairly large vestibule from which entry to the
lobby was through two wooden framed ‘push’ doors with full length glass
in them. That had been some six or seven years prior. Right about the
time I was hired there had been some trouble with one of them and Hank,
the now deceased messenger/custodian had been schooled in what to do.
With his death so went that information. So, reluctantly, I headed for
the front of the bank and never got a look at the people who'd been in the
break room. Each of the two doors was on rollers and once unlocked,
they rolled back into a space built into the front walls of the building. When Mike, the
current messenger/custodian, had attempted to roll one of them into the opening it got jammed. The other one was pushed into it’s normal location
so there was still ingress and egress to the lobby. The problem wasn’t
an immediate one but would be when three o’clock came and we had to lock
the doors to the public. The reason was that there was no way the
‘push’ doors could be latched. In viewing the situation I remember
thinking to myself that things would have to get better… but when?
The
bank had been built in 1924, some 44 years earlier. Any chance of
finding current information on the doors was slim to none. Even though
both Hobie and Bert (the president) were there during the remodeling
neither could remember who had made the determination on the
serviceability of the doors so I was pretty much on my own. The main
concern was the security of the facilities during the upcoming night(s) and weekend. I
really didn’t know where to start even though I was the designated
security officer. I don’t remember when I finally went across the street
to the police station. I recognized the chief because he’d been there
forever. I’d never formally met him but remembered my grandfather
talking with him from time to time. In any case, after telling him about
the bank’s problem he said he thought that if the bank was willing to
pay he could ‘“persuade” a couple of his off duty patrolmen
to “guard” the bank from 5pm to 8am and through the weekend. With no other options I jumped at
the offer. The one caveat was the bank would have to come up with a
permanent “fix” of the door by early the following week.
Soon
after returning to my desk I saw Woody head my way. I’d lost track of
time and upon seeing her looked up at the clock on the wall and could hardly believe it
was approaching 4pm. I had no idea what Woody wanted. I was probably a
little ’short’ with her when I asked. Back to being the wide eyed,
bubbly Woody that I’d hired she said that she could stay a little after
5pm and we could have our talk then. I asked about her bus ride home and
she said the lady at who’s house she was living
had to come to town for a doctor visit and had offered to give her a
ride back. In hearing that I breathed a sigh of relief. At least it
wasn’t another problem… yet. I told her about the trouble with the door
and that I thought I could squeeze a few minutes in for her after getting the policemen who would be guarding the bank squared away. She seemed
quite pleased as she headed back to her work area. One good thing about
that was it gave me a chance to go over her letter again. There were
still some questions in my mind as to what exactly would transpire but I was
more prepared than if I’d met with her earlier that day.
Two off
duty policemen were ushered to my desk sometime before 5pm. Trish and
Bret had been apprised of the arrangements and they were hoping one or
both might be friends of theirs. When Bret saw the first one he was
really excited and let me know they played football together. That made
me more comfortable. I went over the details of the problem and the cops
told us how they would handle anything unusual. One would ‘camp out’ in
the vestibule from 5pm to midnight and the other from midnight to 8am
with the cops on duty at the station house across the street would relieving
them periodically. It was a plan!
I’d told Woody to wait until
both Bret and Trish left before coming to my desk. Lorie was still there
but I’d told her I had to meet with her that morning and had to
postpone it so I wasn’t worried about her. Sitting here typing this I
still remember the uneasy feeling I had as Woody sat down. The primary
reason for the meeting was to go over her letter to me but… I had some
unfinished ‘business’ to cover as well… the two pair of Sans Soucie
panties I’d given her to try. It was a bit humorous because I “threw
the ball” to her to start and asked why she thought she’d disappointed
me. When I heard her answer I knew I’d seen it in her letter. She said
she was ashamed of being “a little girl” and had created “trouble” for
me. I looked right at her and told her I didn’t understand what she
meant by being “a little girl”. With that she made a face and I remember
her wrinkling her brow a bit. I waited a few seconds for an answer
before prodding her a bit. She took a few breaths and then said that
“only little girls wet themselves". I immediately remembered when Trish and I had met with her
in the Board room earlier in the week I’d told her about Elle’s incontinence and some
‘accidents' she’d endured. I truly thought that it had registered with her. At
this moment it appeared that it hadn’t. Before I could say anything she
went on that when she was in grade school she’d wet herself a few times
and the teacher had made fun of her calling her “a little girl” in front
of the whole class. I decided to repeat what I’d told her about Elle
but expanding it a bit to explain incontinence. I could tell from the
look in her eyes and on her face that it had finally ‘registered’. To put an
‘exclamation’ on it I told her of a fairly recent one in which Elle’s
wetness showed but only if someone were looking for it. I told her Elle
never let on about it and if anyone noticed it didn’t really matter
because “accidents happen”.
To be continued…
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