" no, it's ... " she jiggles the doorknob. once, twice, three times, each with increasing aggression. " it's locked. " then, she laughs, because there truly is no worse way to end a day that has already been what she can only describe as cartoonishly bad than being trapped in a supply closet with no means of communication. finally, she turns around in defeat. " you've got to be kidding me. "