I'm in the wrong job

It's always a mission getting my family out the house on a Saturday. This weekend was nothing out of the ordinary. It started off ok, nappies changed, offspring dressed, bottles made, dishes washed, all breakfasted up, I'd negotiated my 3 hour drinking pass from my superior. All systems go.

It was 11am, Junior was strapped in the car and we were set. Shit, we were so on time I toyed with the idea that I might even be able to buy the missus a Starbucks (getting more Brownie points in the process) and still make the battle cruiser for kick off.

I was just about to start the car when the boss asked me if it was cold. Now why do women always do that? I gave my usual sarcastic reply like 'not if you are a fucking reptile it's not'. She took this to mean that it was so asked for the keys and went back inside.

10 minutes later she reappeared (I had long since shelved the Starbucks idea) wearing a coat, holding a banana and a large plastic bag from Boots containing what looked like Santa's gift stock for the 2-3am shift. She got back in the car, I asked for the keys and she said 'shit'. She doesn't swear very often, normally at me when I break something, so I knew it was serious.

So, we are in the car, with no keys. Her housekey is on the car keyring. My housekeys could be anywhere, but most certainly not on me. I recall some time ago giving a spare to my mate in case this should happen. Panic over, I rang him. He told me that he gave it back to me last time the in-laws were in town. Shit again, he was right.

We have PVC windows, so breaking one wasn't an option. We have 3 cats, but I've never got round to teaching them key retrieval techniques. I could see one of them on the lounge window cill, fast asleep. I was tempted to wake her up for the hell of it. No good, 118118 and ask for a locksmith.

3 attempts later I finally got one to answer the phone. I explained the situation, that it was cold and I had a baby with me, so he said he'd make a priority call and would be there 'almost immediately'.

An hour later he rang me saying he was held up on the motorway and would be with me as soon as. He eventually got there at 12:30. By this time me and the wife had exhausted our conversation, got over the 'in 2 years we'll be laughing about this' bollocks and were arguing about the tyre pressure on front passenger wheel (why is it always me that has to pump it up?)

The locksmith showed up and took out an A5 sized stiff plastic sheet. He squeezed it into the gap between the door and frame, jiggled it a bit James Bond style and within 30 seconds had the door open. He charged me £108.10 for less than a minute's work. It took him longer to fill out the call sheet.

I got to the pub half an hour early, the wife wasn't going to argue.