Ford did have a colleague who probably wasn't at lunch, but George Robins was almost certainly not going to be much help in this situation. The only thing George might do would be to direct someone else's attention to it, and he might not even manage that (but maybe Ford was being uncharitable? George was probably better at magic than Ford was, but he just didn't seem the type to be a quick problem solver in a strange situation).

"I'll get the one to Hatchitt," he volunteered. The note he wrote was brief: Door to third floor breakroom disappeared; stuck inside. Please help? and with a swish of his wand it was out to the hallway. It at least looked as though it had worked, which was gratifying — if he'd said he could help and then the note ended up doing nothing but flopping around on the floor like a fish out of water, that would have been a little awkward.

"I'll send one to the welcome desk, too," he decided. "They're required to have someone staffed all day, aren't they?" He didn't think the welcome witches would be much help themselves, but they could probably find someone who would help.