There’s a college in my city that has a rumor that there’s a secret basement below the known basement that can only be accessed via some hidden stairs scattered around the school or by pressing a secret number sequence in some of the elevators. The staff at the school are super annoyed by this and have no idea where this rumor started.
But I know. I think it was me.
In my defense I never intended to start a rumor. Many years ago I worked as a cleaner at the school and one evening I had to transport one of those big floor washing machines from the basement to the second level via the elevator. When the doors opened a very confused looking man stood inside. He was one of those slicked back gym-bro IT guys and made no movement to get out. The elevator wouldn’t fit him, me and the machine so I asked “Where are you going? Up or down?”
He gave me a smug shit-eating grin and said “Down?” in a mocking tone.
It took me a second to realize that of course he wasn’t going down, we were in the basement, but his look and tone annoyed me so much I refused to admit I misspoke and instead said “Yeah, down. I don’t know if you’re going to the second basement”
His smile disappeared “There’s a second basement?”
“Yeah but it sounds like you don’t have access to it so I guess you’re going up? I’ll just wait”
I never thought of it as anything other than a funny story to tell about that time I got so annoyed with a guy that I invented an entire second basement, but it turns out he probably refused to believe a cleaner fooled him and the story spread.
theartofmadeline
blakekathryn
titsay
