The veins on his forehead popped out like a topographic map

Back in the day in LA I worked on a secure floor of an office building where you needed a key card to get in. My desk was sort of near the doors. I always came in to work very early to get work done without the phone ringing. But it wasn’t quiet — that’s because I always played hard rock really loud.

One day a guy who worked in another division stormed up to me in the hall with balled fists, ready for a fight. He squared up. I thought, wow, not sure what this is about, I haven’t been in a fist fight since my hockey days and I’m wearing a suit, but if he takes a swing at me, I’ll show him how we did it on the ice in Canada.

He screamed, “Why didn’t you let me in!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I was pounding on the door forever this morning and you wouldn’t let me in!” he yelled, spit coming out of his mouth.

“Bro, I don’t what you are talking about.”

“Yes, you do. I was breaking the door down and you didn’t let me in because you are an *******!”

The veins on his forehead popped out like a topographic map.

“Listen, if you come any closer, I’m going to knock you out. I can’t hear anything in the morning, much less you pounding on the door because you didn’t have your card. That’s on you.”

He stormed off. After that, he treated me like a pariah. I told my boss in case he blew it up somehow — always have to CYA in corporate life. She laughed.

I really didn’t hear the guy banging on the doors.

Or did I.