Security at the RRB

Ready for Lauren's embarrassing moment of the week? Put on your seatbelts folks, because it's a good (and kind of long) one.

Background: I work at the Ronald Reagan Building (RRB) in Washington DC. It's located at 1300 Pennsylvania Avenue. (If you know your history/geography/city planning/are a fan of US Presidents past and present, you will know that there is a big White House located just three blocks down the road at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.) Like many big agencies and corporations these days, a badge is required to enter the building. That badge is then used again to admit agency employees into the elevator area. (You must be escorted by an employee if you do not have a badge.) So these turnstiles before the elevators are clear plastic doors. The open when you press your badge to the card reader. If someone on the other side's card is read first you cannot enter because the doors will automatically close.

I hope you see where I'm going with this...

This morning I woke up irritated because I couldn't sleep last night and tossed and turned from 12:30 am to 3 am after trying a myriad of different things to get to sleep--including opening the window, opening the door, changing pillows, switching my head to the bottom of the bed, etc. I get really upset when I don't get enough sleep and I was getting frustrated and emotional last night as I couldn't get back to sleep. I finally moved to the couch and slept relatively comfortably until my roommates got up for the gym and I moved back to my own bed. Anyway, that has nothing to do with RRB security...

I get to work. Lisa and I are rushing kind of. And I put my badge on the reader and start walking through when all of a sudden I'm not walking through the open doors, I'm being blocked by the door getting knocked on my knee and arm. And it's not like I'm trying to go through at some odd hour of the day. Nope, it's rush time. EVERYONE saw me bang into the door. The security guards as me if I'm ok, genuinely concerned, then he takes me off to the side and I think I'm going to get a lecture about proper turnstile protocol. No, he just has me write down my name and number so that if he needs to file a report he can.

I then make it up to my desk, recount the event for my boss who has a loud and friendly hearty laugh and likes it when I do stupid things to entertain him in the morning. About 10 minutes ago the security office calls me, I think they're just telling me I have a guest to escort into the building. He mispronounces my name and when I tell him I don't know who that is, he says, "Are you the young lady who ran into the turnstile?"

I could have died.

After publication edit: I have a bruise on my knee. It's purple and blue already. And I'm pretty sure they were calling because they were writing up a report. He asked exactly where I got hit and how I was doing etc. Nice, but still embarrassing.