Every morning I ride the bus to work. Every morning I walk from the bus to the post office and from the post office to the office that I intern in. As an intern, I do not have keys to the office – I don’t need them, nor do I want them. The office I work in is located in a historic building with retail space on the first floor, office space on the second and third floors, and all of the remaining upper floors are lofts. Expensive lofts.
I typically reach the office at about ten minutes before 8 and the doors to the building are locked. Patiently I wait outside until the doors unlock at five minutes to 8 or somebody will let me in. Please take note of that: “somebody will let me in.” Maybe it’s someone who works in the office I work in, or maybe it’s the building manager. And then, sometimes, it’s one of the loft tenants.
Some of them are very nice, and will ask me if I want in. Others will bolt out the door so they don’t have to make eye contact with me or even acknowledge the fact that I exist. That’s okay. It’s a scary world and those who know me well probably agree I’m a scary looking guy. Recently, however, one tenant let me in and then he went and complained to the building manager.
Allegedly there is a man in a suit waiting outside every morning. Apparently he grabs the door (that is a lie) or asks if the tenant will let him go in (true). The tenants have been told not to let people into the building, and I can almost imagine what a threatening scene this must be every morning: man in suit waiting outside historic building that he works in and building tenant lets man in suit in minutes before the doors unlock automatically. Terrifying.
Look, lame-ass tenant who pays more rent than any sane person would, if you don’t want to let me the man in the suit into the building, just grow a goddamn backbone and say NO. What are you afraid of? That the man in the suit will swing his briefcase around and hit you in the groin and then kick you in the stomach as you fall to the floor and he runs past you into the building shouting “I win! I win! I win!”?
No, go hide in your overpriced loft and tell the manager. Hope you get on top of that case of Vagicitis you’ve got because if you don’t do something soon, you’re liable to turn into one big pussy.
See ya tomorrow, jackass.