14 December 2006

Going up?

It has been a recent epidemic that residents or hotel guests have mistaken me for an elevator operator. It must be that bell boy outfit I wear 24/7... or the hat. ... the hat!
Today, as the doors were closing, I stuck my hand out to hold the elevator for a woman whom I was sure I wouldn't like... but I felt like it was the polite thing to do. I had already pressed my floor and as she made her entrance into the lift with her bags, elite presence, and an expression that yearned for her porter, she muttered a "thanks" (I think) and articulated: "Seven, please." I was not within arms' length of the buttons at that point. So I ignored her and took a sip of my coffee. It's not like her hands were full; it's not like I was next to the buttons; and it's not like I was actually wearing my elevator operator outfit.

"Until then... down boy." (Props to anyone who can name that quote... ST16, this means you)

Comments:
Cruel Intentions!
 
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