Concrete Pencil: Fire Alert Fun

I was in work late on Sunday (thank you, God), and the tedium was broken by an 11pm fire alarm (thanks again).

And this wasn't one of your run of the mill "The fire alarm system in the building has been operated, please remain at your work station" ones.

It wasn't even "We are currently testing the fire alert system in some parts of the building, if you hear the fire alert, please remain at your work station."

We'd had one of those earlier in the day, at the one point in proceedings when I was trying to concentrate.

No, this was a proper, full-on: "A fire has been reported in the building, please exit the floor, do not use the lifts."

So after a respectable amount of grumbling, and some pointless checking that they mean us (like "Do you want to try again?" - a question to which you always already know the answer.)

Amid the kerfuffle, I remembered that I am a fire marshall (it's a tough job, ma'am, but someone has to protect and serve).

I presented myself at the red box as we fire marshalls have to do, and I helped security clear the floor.

(I don't suppose I'm a particularly good fire marshall. The main thing I remember from my training is, in answer to the question, "what should I do if someone refuses to leave" the matter-of-fact phrase "let 'em burn". Which got it's point across, but I should probably have more in my head about the process than that.)

So down everyone trooped, with me last, my duties not probably exactly done as such, but my conscience pretty clear (and the floor absolutely clear).

On my lonely trudge down 22 floors (44 flights of stairs, my thighs still feel funny), I could hear those below me laughing to their familiar jokes. And when they reached and passed the final fire door, the voices stopped.

But then different voices came, furtive ones rich in chuckles. And, as I reached the M2 floor (what do maintenance do on two whole floors?), the two drunks rushed up past me. 

What kind of person drinks to drunkenness in Canary Wharf on a Sunday? Smart casual clothes, stupid grins, that's all I saw of them.

And what kind of person gleefully breaks in to a building that may - unlikely in the extreme, but still - be on fire.

They must have seen what was happening, laid in wait for people to leave by the fire door, then snuck in. Maybe they even set the alarm off.

Without passes, all they had access to was 50 floors worth of stairs. I should think the joke ran pretty thin pretty quickly. 

Maybe I should have done something more, what with being a fire marshall and all. But, orders is orders: let 'em burn.