Stuck in a lift at Wembley

Since my transfer to the back of the camera (so to speak), I have found myself with less time for silly castings and auditions and hence less time for moaning, too.

One occasion springs to mind where I was late for work thanks to snogging a guy in the morning, courtesy of a "Johnson's" Valentine's commercial, but I couldn't complain.

My boss was happy with the explanation that I had to feed a friend's starving cat, and my tardiness wasn't mentioned again.

On the other hand, I still carry on doing the odd (pun intended!) freelance job in hospitality and corporate events, for the fun of it (and the cash, of course).

Come on, which other job allows you to get your hairdressing, makeup, shoes and clothes partially funded by the tax man!? ;)

On this occasion, I found myself bright and early at the new Wembley stadium, so new in fact that the chairs in the staff room were still in the wrappers, our ID cards and uniforms weren't ready and the heat wasn't working properly.
Ah yes, and the lifts- but I wasn't to find that out until later.

I had in fact been sent a "make do" uniform which consisted of a polyester jacket (size 12), a stretchy white see-through top (size 10) and a polyester skirt (size 14) with a broken zip.

I decided to wear my own skirt, being unable to get into the one that was sent to me without undoing the zip, and I was glad of that fact when it was pointed out to two girls (in the "standard" skirts) that standing near the floor-to-ceiling windows at the top of the escalators allowed every male (and female) on the ground floor an unfettered view up their skirts.

A colleague (an ex radio producer trying to get into TV) and I went to the bathroom upstairs via the escalator, and the only way to go back down to our designated position as human sign posts was either a long walk down some smoky-smelling stairs, or the lift.

So we took the lift.

An Asian lift boy carrying his excuse for a lunch (a soggy sandwich, apple and a Mars bar) in a paper bag, swiped his card over the reader and pressed the "down" button.
The lift went down.
Then it stopped.
A voice said: "This lift is out of service"- NOT a comforting thing to hear when you are already in it with the doors shut!
We laughed, then wondered what to do when after a while the doors still didn't open, and the lift operator's card had stopped working altogether.
Instead of a green light and some up or down motion, it merely produced a red light and not much else.

We started banging on the door, as we could hear voices outside.
The public were about to come in and we weren't in position!

Intelligently, you are not allowed to keep mobile phones on you during your shift (only a small pouch is provided for lipsticks, tampons and small change), so apart from banging on the doors, shouting and getting to know each other there was little else to do.

We pressed the "alarm" button. An alarm shrilled and a recorded voice urged us to "please remain calm", then again nothing.

We tried pressing the button again for longer, and finally it rang through to some office.
It rang and rang, then a dozy woman answered, clearly barely able to hear us over the din in the background.

She assured us she'd alert people to our plight.

The Asian boy offered me his apple which I took gratefully (Wembley had not provided us with any breakfast despite the early start), and my radio colleague mentioned how glad she was not to be stuck with a friend of hers who's claustrophobic.

Nothing happened for ages, then we pressed the alarm button again.

"Lift 12?" the dozy lady answered when we told here we were STILL stuck. "No, lift ONE!" we shouted in desperation. "Number twelve? Help is on its way." "NO, lift ONE!" we yelled back.

I clawed at the doors. Voices, and yet still nothing from outside.

Suddenly, the doors opened.

My colleague and I bolted out, leaving the lift boy to his first shift at work.

"This happens all the time" he told us reassuringly.