Imagine you've been working in an unfamiliar maintenance room of a surgical center, alone, for maybe forty-five minutes. Now you're done. You gather up your stuff, you make sure that you have the key that they gave you when you got here, and you reach for the light switch... and it's red.
It's flipped up, in what is traditionally considered the ON position. It's probably the switch you turned on when you walked in the room.
But it's as red as Hellboy. It's a red switch in the middle of a red cover plate with little red screws in it and it's directly under a fire signal. Which is also the exact same shade of red.
You FEEL like you turned a light on when you came in. You're 85% sure. And that's a fine percentage unless it means that there is a 15% chance that you're about to flip a switch that will summon the fire department and evacuate a fairly large medical facility.
But that's stupid. You've never seen a fire alarm that was activated by a light switch. There's always some glass to break or a cover that protects it from accidental activation.
Of course, those alarms are in public traffic areas. Here you are in a restricted space where you need a special key. People who are permitted in this room need to know what they are doing. They are the kind of people who would not accidentally set off a fire alarm. You were allowed into this room under the assumption that you are one of those people.
So, you should ask.
It's flipped up, in what is traditionally considered the ON position. It's probably the switch you turned on when you walked in the room.
But it's as red as Hellboy. It's a red switch in the middle of a red cover plate with little red screws in it and it's directly under a fire signal. Which is also the exact same shade of red.
You FEEL like you turned a light on when you came in. You're 85% sure. And that's a fine percentage unless it means that there is a 15% chance that you're about to flip a switch that will summon the fire department and evacuate a fairly large medical facility.
But that's stupid. You've never seen a fire alarm that was activated by a light switch. There's always some glass to break or a cover that protects it from accidental activation.
Of course, those alarms are in public traffic areas. Here you are in a restricted space where you need a special key. People who are permitted in this room need to know what they are doing. They are the kind of people who would not accidentally set off a fire alarm. You were allowed into this room under the assumption that you are one of those people.
So, you should ask.
You should definitely find someone and ask if this is a light switch. And they'll ask, "Is WHAT a light switch?" And you'll say, "This." And you'll point at the only light switch in the room. And they'll say something like "Duh-doy," and then go back to putting a stent in someone's head while you struggle visibly with the simplest aspect of your dumb job.
So, you don't ask. Screw it. You can just leave the light on. You walk out, and let the self-locking door creep shut behind you. You turn to see the illuminated crack shrink to almost nothing and then quickly and painfully jam the two smallest fingers of your left hand into that space so the door shuts on them. What if the light switch is red because it's extraordinarily important to turn off this light? What if THIS is the fire hazard? What if there's some weird piece of machinery in here that needs to function in total darkness?
God. You hate everyone.
There must be a sign, right? This is not a brand new building. This office is a couple of years old at least. You can't be the only (yes you are) person who have been in this (only you) room and could not figure out (dumbest man alive) how to get the living fuck out of here.
You scan the walls. There is only one sign. It says "Exit".
It is mounted over the only door in the room.
That's the level of dumb this room was designed to accommodate. And you've not reached this very low bar.
You've put this off long enough. You put your hand on the switch. You think of that scene from The Deer Hunter when there are three bullets in the gun. You grit your teeth, imagine the sound of sirens and flip the switch.
The lights go off.
Of course they do. It's a light switch. There are no light switch fire alarms. No one but you has ever even considered that something like that should exist. Now, the thing you didn't know about yourself when you woke up this morning, the fact that you were prepared to disrupt any number of surgical procedures rather than suffer a modest amount of embarrassment in front of someone who doesn't know or care who you are, is yours to drag around for the rest of your life. Alone, in the dark, you shake your head and revisit the long, familiar chain of memories where generations of people ask "what's wrong with you?" The wall is cool against your forehead.
In a world that you yourself would create, the color of light switches would be dull and benign. There'd be signs. Intentions would be clear. People would not be punished for compulsively considering more possibilities than ordinary people do. In fact, these visionaries... they would be revered. Treasured. They would be as gods.
But you don't live on that world. You live in a world where it took you four minutes to turn off the lights.
And now, you turn the lights back on.
Because you have no idea where the doorknob is.
So, you don't ask. Screw it. You can just leave the light on. You walk out, and let the self-locking door creep shut behind you. You turn to see the illuminated crack shrink to almost nothing and then quickly and painfully jam the two smallest fingers of your left hand into that space so the door shuts on them. What if the light switch is red because it's extraordinarily important to turn off this light? What if THIS is the fire hazard? What if there's some weird piece of machinery in here that needs to function in total darkness?
God. You hate everyone.
There must be a sign, right? This is not a brand new building. This office is a couple of years old at least. You can't be the only (yes you are) person who have been in this (only you) room and could not figure out (dumbest man alive) how to get the living fuck out of here.
You scan the walls. There is only one sign. It says "Exit".
It is mounted over the only door in the room.
That's the level of dumb this room was designed to accommodate. And you've not reached this very low bar.
You've put this off long enough. You put your hand on the switch. You think of that scene from The Deer Hunter when there are three bullets in the gun. You grit your teeth, imagine the sound of sirens and flip the switch.
The lights go off.
Of course they do. It's a light switch. There are no light switch fire alarms. No one but you has ever even considered that something like that should exist. Now, the thing you didn't know about yourself when you woke up this morning, the fact that you were prepared to disrupt any number of surgical procedures rather than suffer a modest amount of embarrassment in front of someone who doesn't know or care who you are, is yours to drag around for the rest of your life. Alone, in the dark, you shake your head and revisit the long, familiar chain of memories where generations of people ask "what's wrong with you?" The wall is cool against your forehead.
In a world that you yourself would create, the color of light switches would be dull and benign. There'd be signs. Intentions would be clear. People would not be punished for compulsively considering more possibilities than ordinary people do. In fact, these visionaries... they would be revered. Treasured. They would be as gods.
But you don't live on that world. You live in a world where it took you four minutes to turn off the lights.
And now, you turn the lights back on.
Because you have no idea where the doorknob is.
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