The Key Story

I got 2 Italian Spanish friends in this city: Giacometta and Ricardo – of course, the names have been changed to protect their identities. Anyway, we met at a theater group quite a few months ago and we’ve been hanging around ever since. Giacometta is a lawyer and Ricardo is fighting against prejudice. By the way, I still want my bottle opener and jumper back. So, while out on town, I was complaining of all the cleaning I have to do in my apartment –they recommended I should get a maid. I was a bit reluctant to try at first, but laziness and convenience prevailed – for a few months, their maid came to my apartment and did a fantastic job. Every Tuesday, I would come back from work to a sparkling clean apartment, with everything in order – ah, it felt so good. Funny story: this summer, my maid was ironing my shirts on the top floor of my apartment in 32 degrees heat. I came earlier from work for some reason and when I went upstairs, I found her in her bra – that was a bit embarrassing for the both of us. Next week, I was leaving work a bit earlier as well, my boss was laughing at me, implying that I hope to catch her ironing again. He was, obviously, so wrong! But I digress.
Anyway, one day, Maia (the maid) messages me and tells me she found a fulltime job so she can’t come to my place anymore. At first, I was like, damn it – I just got used to having a clean house; but then I was happy for her that she found a more stable source of income. There was one slight detail that needed to be solved, which was where could she leave my apartment keys. I was at work, so I couldn’t pick them up myself, she couldn’t leave them in the mailbox as it doesn’t have a lock. It just came to me, at the time of writing, that she could just locked the door and slide them back through the letter box opening in my apartment’s door… But hell, if she would’ve done that, there would be no story to tell, so it’s all for the best :)The obvious solution for me at the time was to leave them with my Italian Spanish friends.
And here they come back into the story – due to irreconcilable differences with their weird landlord, they recently moved to a new apartment in the center – all fine and good, but they needed internet. Ricardo calls actually goes to the physical store of one provider. They check the coverage and they say they will deliver a box to his apartment. Two weeks pass, no box arrives. So when he calls them, they say they don’t cover that area. Second provider, same story. Third provider – after more than a month without internet – finally delivers a box. He plugs everything in, aaand it doesn’t work. You know the drill, tech support – a technician will be with you sir very soon: in 2 weeks. And that was 2 weeks ago, when I receive a text message with a picture of my keys and Ricardo asking me in a bit of a panic if these were indeed my keys. I replied yes, these are my keys, and told him the whole maid story. He then says he needs to make a copy of my keys, but I shouldn’t worry, he’s not trying to enter my house. He’ll explain later, I shouldn’t worry, he couldn’t talk then, he was busy at work.
Needless to say, I was confused. Countless scenarios were going through my head: why would he need a copy of my keys, he has the original. What could’ve happened? Why? How? What? Que paso? Next day, he tells me the full story. Maia goes to their house and leaves the keys with Giacometta, all good. Giacometta leaves the keys somewhere on a counter in their apartment and goes to work, minding her own business. Ricardo then comes from work to meet the internet technician. The guys runs checks and they figure out a cable is disconnected somewhere in their house. Obviously, the broken connection is in the only room in the house they don’t rent. A room locked by the landlord. The no-go room. Now Ricardo sees this set of keys in the house, he had no previous knowledge of – he has never seen these keys before, had no idea how they got into his apartment. He goes on a limb and tries one of them on the locked door, just in case. At this point I was laughing my ass of, I interrupt him and said: so you broke one of my keys, that’s why you want to make a copy? No, actually, to both of our surprise the key worked. He managed to open the lock door and fix his internet connection. Once the technician left, he starts panicking and having “paranoid” thoughts – how did those keys ended up in my house? The landlord couldn’t leave them; he’s out of the country. Maybe somebody else has the keys to my apartment and left them in. But who? And how would they know I needed access to that particular room? You know – the regular thoughts of a person that finds a random set of keys that open a door in his house. Once he called his girlfriend, the situation cleared and they were both laughing at it. The moral of this story from their perspective – always share events with your significant other regardless how trivial they might seem. From my end, my key opened a door in a random house; I changed the damn lock on my door!

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