The doorman hurdle

Working an extra late-night shift was a lot of fun last night. My first call was to 237 Park Avenue. Someone was trapped in elevator #9. When I arrived (just before my shift actually started) the doorman told me one lady was stuck and needed to get out quickly. I ask the normal questions attempting to assess the situation.
Is she calm or panicking? Claustrophobic? Pregnant or epileptic? Do we need to call the fire department?
The doorman immediately presses the intercom talk button "Are you pregnant?"
The lady yelled "What?"
"They want me to ask you" he said.
Now, I understand its difficult to get a normal person to work the graveyard shift. I understand the intense amount of stress a doorman must be under each night, in a near-empty building.
As the nocturnal porter starts to laugh at the doorman I asked "Dude, are you serious? What's the matter with you?"
"How else will we know?" he inquires of me.
I went on to explain that I was hoping he would already have pertinent information from what our victim already volunteered. (She became a victim when this idiot doorman forced her to reconsider her safety. And her maternity status.)
I wait as Einstein looks for the machine room keys. And I wonder why he didn't perform this task just after calling Schindler with an elevator problem.

Once in the machine room my twenty plus years of elevator experience quickly diagnosed the problem. But the burning smell and smoke from a large relay did help. At this time I didn't know which floor she was trapped on. I was hoping to be able to pick the hall door near her and open the car door by hand. I went down to investigate her location.

The lady was stuck in a blind shaft. I called the office for a second mechanic. A blind shaft is the part of the hoistway that has no doors to the hallway. This particular blind shaft was the first 12 stories of the building above the lobby landing. She was stuck on the ninth floor. I knew the only way out for her was to be helped from the side door of elevator #9 to the side door of #8.

I pulled the mainline and ventured down the stairs to elevator #8. Once on top of #8 I heard the voice of elevator mechanic #2, Sean. He arrived rather quickly I noticed. After customary greetings and the offering of coffee, Sean and I descended slowly atop of elevator #8. When we reached the point where our car top was level with #9 we noticed the side doors do not have a beam between them. Nothing but nine floors of gravity creating a rather unsafe transfer spot. At this point Sean climbs over to our victims car. He opens the top escape hatch and begins to talk to the lady.

With universal hand signals I inquire if she's old or fat. (I already know she isn't pregnant) I'm concerned about a transfer as we consider calling the FDNY. We would be able to get them to this point in the shaft and they can be responsible for her safety.

Sean wants to look at the melted relay. A slow trip up to 21 will delay our goal. So I stayed with our victim while Sean went up to the machine room. Her name is Sharon and she works at a cosmetic company in the building. I offer her my cell phone but she already had one and was in contact with her friends. Her first priority, upon exit, was to use a bathroom.

I call Sean on the phone. He wants to make a temporary repair to the relay and hope for the best. I originally didn't look for a "relay repair" because I thought I would be able to get her out without a transfer.

Eventually Sean patched the relay terminal with a large sheet metal screw. It was just barely hanging on to the stranded wire. As I ran the car (from the car top controls) on inspection speed up he stood by the fire extinguisher in the machine room.

Sharon was free. I got a hug. Sean got two tickets on his car. One for an expired inspection sticker and one for not putting money in the parking meter. That's how he arrived so quickly.

I repaired four more elevators that night. Then, at 6AM, I got another entrapment call. This time it was 1345 Avenue of the Americas. Two doorman work the same night-shift at this building. One doorman is named Frank. Frank has worked there for a few months but never knows where anything is or even where the keys are. Frank and I got trapped in a stairwell a few weeks back because he thought it was unlocked.

The other doorman greeted me this morning and jokingly asked if I wanted Frank to escort me around the building.
"No thanks. Just toss me the keys and tell me which floor the low rise machine room is located".

Doorman #2 didn't know which floor and he didn't know which keys were needed. So I asked him "Why do you pick on Frank when you, yourself, don't know your way around here? How long have you been working here?"
His answer of four years shocked me. It took one half hour to get from the lobby to inside the elevator machine room. The victim of this building may blame the elevator mechanic for not working quick enough. The real resistance of my rescues is never revealed.