Fire in the Disco!

A few months back the Administration that manages our office building came by with some very official-looking letters informing us of a fire drill that would be taking place during the last two weeks of May. We had to designate two "leaders" as well as two alternates that were to be in charge of herding everyone on our floor to safety in case of firy disasters. Of course, everyone in this office is apparently too important to even be considered as "volunteer" for anything, let alone ensuring the safety of their friends and coworkers, so I just chose at random and secretly enjoyed imagining their reactions when I told them they were a fire drill helper.

That "simulacro de incendio" never happened during the last two weeks of May. Hm. I figured we were lucky and that the Administration forgot, or that they lost the paper with the information, or anything else that tends to be typically Argentine. Regardless, just the other day we were served with another official-looking letter that reminded us of the two hour-long fire safety course that would be required of us to attend. TWO. HOURS. About fire safety. I am pretty sure that the only people who need more than a 30 minute common sense chat are the actual firefighters. Really? Our building has 8 stories, only 1 staircase, and we're on the 1st floor. Not too complicated for us. In case of smoke, fire, disaster and any other calamitous event, we can just stroll down a flight of stairs and walk outside. Problem solved.

The day of the big course arrives. From 4-6 PM I am expected to learn the ins and outs of fire safety and how to survive a flaming mess. All of my supposed "volunteers" abandoned me, so I was the only one stuck with going (which made sense, but it wasn't fair that they could just skip out without explanation and I got stuck with the burden of attending. I even got a phone call from the building super gently reminding me that I arrive promptly as not to hold up the other "students". Thanks, Rubén).

I show up, walk back to the conference room that is set up with a melange of office chairs and stools above a randomly stained carpet and next to a table haphazardly set up with water and plastic cups as if to suppose hospitality. "Welcome to the most boring two hours of your life. Please have a glass of water. You'll wish it were whiskey but the presenter drank it already."

The room is full of 10 businessmen, all over the age of 40, all dressed in full suits (seriously, who opts to wear a full suit to work everyday? Maybe a CEO needs to wear one, but then again, the CEO isn't going to be sitting in the fire drill course. Explain yourselves!) and ready to learn. Most brought notepads and pens to take accurate notes! Something was amiss. I started detailing the events to my friend Katie via blackberry messenger, and when no one gave me the evil eye I realized it was probably because they thought I too must be taking diligent notes! Wrong.

After a minute or two of idle chatter, the presenter gets up and on his way. His Powerpoint Presentation reminded me of the ones I had to do for school in the late 90s. Once he started talking, I realized he fully intended on taking the 2 hour period seriously, not stopping until the clock read 6:00 PM on the dot. Groan. He goes on, and on, and on, and ON about his experience with fire safety and how he is here to give us the complete low-down on what to do in case of fire.

Apparently NONE of the people in the room had ever been involved in a fire drill at school before, because they were fervently taking notes when the presenter highlighted one of his many bulletpoints. WALK, do not RUN, to the exit. Do NOT take elevator in case of fire. Do NOT bring anything superfluous with you upon exit. Do NOT return to a burning building. Ladies, do NOT wear high heels, and do NOT take off your shoes when evacuating.

As Josey says, common sense is the least common of all the senses.

My favorite bit was that the images this guy had in his Powerpoint were lifted from some other source, because he had awkwardly placed text boxes from the Paint program over pre-existing text that was part of the image. The people escaping the building looked like fat stick figures, with plump limbs and extremely pointy hands and feet. While they crawled the floor evading smoke inhalation, they reminded me of the Viet Cong fighting for their lives in the dense jungle. You can't make this stuff up.

Trying to contain my laughter and disbelief, I feigned the need to go to the bathroom and just left. I couldn't take it anymore. At least at my Island in Reception I have internet access and can nod off without anyone noticing (at least for 30 seconds anyway). So I hopped back upstairs, eager to transmit the vital facts and tips to the rest of my coworkers.

Oh, and the best part, the Administration promised to install a fire alarm within the next 90 days.