I was interning at a small town paper back in the day -- ("the day" being 35 years ago, now) and we had to do our production work (photo processing, layout, that sort of thing) at the office of another paper in the chain 15 miles away. It was production day and they locked up for the night without realizing I was in the darkroom. These were old-fashioned locks, in that you couldn't open the door from the inside and leave the door locked behind you. I couldn't get anyone to answer their phones at home (nobody had cell phones then except for two or three obnoxiously rich folks, and no one I knew had their numbers). I found a door at the end of a hall that, though sticky, would open. I left a note, and then left.
The next day, back in our own office, my boss said they were sorry they locked me in, etc. etc., and sorry nobody picked up the phone, etc. etc. "But you busted the door. It was an old door and they decided to replace it."
Recently ran into someone who worked at the same paper at the same time. Thirty five years ago.
"Oh yeah! You're the kid who busted the door!"