He swore quietly as the key got jammed, and he had to rip it out of the lock and start again. Sean had not had the day for this, and he was in no mood to be locked out of his own apartment through no fault of his own. Again.
He managed to finesse the lock just so, and get inside after about eighteen minutes. It took all his willpower not to just chuck his keys as hard as he could against the far living room wall. It might feel good in the moment, but would really suck when he had to look for his keys, and for when he had to re-spackle the wall to cover the dent the keys would undoubtedly make. Because he was definitely mad enough to make a dent with the keys.
Instead, he let the keys drop into the bowl beside the front door and fished his cell phone out of his pocket. It only rang once before cutting straight to voicemail. James knew what he’d done wrong. Sean waited patiently for the peep before turning on the kindest voice he could manage. “James, Hey, It’s Sean Phillips from 2B at 17th street. IT took me a solid eighteen minutes to get my front door unlocked today. I thought we agreed that the locks would be fixed this weekend? Give me a call back soon, or I’m going to get my own locksmith and I’ll send you the bill. Your call, James. Hear from you soon.”
Sean disconnected the line and fell down onto his couch. He’d give James twenty four hours to get back to him–and then it was time to find another solution to the problem.