I love elevators.
(Though, to be clear, I will be visiting an elevator-related issue in the near future. But for now let’s keep things positive, shall we?)
#96: Things you Overhear In Elevators.
As I was saying typing, elevators are wonderful metal boxes where people seem to think inhibitions are verboten. Guests will do anything in elevators. Or at least, they’ll start to; the average ride is ninety seconds and I don’t know about you, but being a tall man, it takes me longer than that to get my pants down, never mind to… well, you get the x-rated picture, right?
Getting back to guests; they’ll say pretty much anything, even if, and sometimes especially, if I’m right beside them. Take this pair of twenty-something broads (and trust me, they were most definitely broads): they couldn’t care less that a bellman was right there in the elevator with them. They just wanted to bash their “friend” as much as they could.
TOWERING BRUNETTE ON THE ELEVATOR: She claims she got her cootchie sewn back up by a doctor in San Diego, but I checked and her husband said she’s never been to San Diego, the lying bitch!
PETITE BLONDE ON THE ELEVATOR: Really, I had no idea you even knew her husband, Brad.
TOWERING BRUNETTE: Oh yeah! We’ve been fucking each other for over a year! That’s why I know she’d never need her cootchie sewn up… she’s a frigid bitch!
PETITE BLONDE: Oh! You’re seeing Brad? You never told me!
TOWERING BRUNETTE: Well, you moved away and I’ve been busy…
(Banging her friend’s husband.)
PETITE BLONDE: How’d you guys meet anyway?
TOWERING BRUNETTE: The office Christmas party. He says I’m what he ‘Wanted Santa to put in his stocking – the gift that keeps on giving… head!’
I swear, I wanted to bust out laughing – and knowing myself as I do, I’m surprised I didn’t – but The Hooks stayed silent. Momentarily, at least…
PETITE BLONDE: (Glancing in my direction hesitantly and whispering – finally.) Do you think the bellguy can hear us?
TOWERING BRUNETTE: (Definitely not whispering.) Who cares! They’re not allowed to listen to guests anyways!
Just then the elevator ascending box of gossip reached their floor. As they got out, I discovered I could stay silent no longer.
ME: (To the Petite Blonde.) To answer your question, miss… I have fully-functioning hearing so I can’t help but overhear conversations that occur right beside me. However, I am completely discreet – in spite of the fact I write a blog about my adventures as a bellman. To quote Bon Jovi… have a nice day!
Needless to say, they were speechless/mortified as the elevator door closed in front of them.
And that’s why I love elevators.
See you in the lobby, kids…
Muahaha…and a word of warning to be silent in elevators or if one must talk, remember the weather is an excellent, albeit boring subject.
But it’s a safe one!
Another outstanding slice of hospitality life. I just don’t get stuff this good in my line of work. Or, it’s rare.
My life is rare, Tara.
Like sushi. :p
I can’t believe people talk like that, Hook! No class and lots of sass.
Oodles of sass, Susie!
Enjoyed it as always. Whenever I’m on an elevator I’m always quiet and looking at the numbers. Go figure.
You’re a smart man, John.
Ha ha ha. Of course if there is a mirrored ceiling I have to look at my shoes.
I hear you, Paul.
The term ‘Broads’ is simply too kind for that kind of trash. But I would have paid to see their faces when you spoke, lol!
And I would have charged you if I could!