The Frozen Hasp on the Tool Chest

Dear Delyara, It’s 3:05 AM, and the metal hasp on the external maintenance chest was so heavily rusted over with ice that I had to hit it with a heavy rubber mallet to get it to release. The sharp thud tore through the quiet of the compound, causing a flock of resting birds to scatter into the dark sky. Standing there looking at the dented iron, my hands shaking from the vibration and the cold, a wave of intense frustration hit me. I am a university graduate with an advanced understanding of brand management, yet my value tonight is being measured by my ability to force open frozen storage boxes in the middle of the night. I closed the lid, snapped the lock shut, and walked away into the fog.