YABSS, Part 2
Into the lobby through the revolving door he went and he headed toward the elevator. Odd, Glen thought, there were security gates here last time and I had to swipe a company-issued ID card. Now they’re gone. The thought stuck in his head roughly as long as it took Glen to board the elevator and punch the “39” button. The doors closed and Glen was suspended in that timeless time that we all must spend in elevators sooner or later. That dead time where there isn’t quite enough time to have a full conversation with anyone you might be acquainted with or read a page of a book or do much of anything. Elevator time is like time spent at traffic lights, a totally unproductive time that we should all get a reimbursement for at the end of our lives.
As Glen (or what it Glen’s narrator?) reflected on this true to form the doors slid open again and interrupted the thought. Glen turned right off the elevator and noticed an attractive receptionist at the front desk. Was there a receptionist here last time? Glen didn’t think so. As they guy writing this story I can assure you there was not, but I’m not going to tell Glen that because his uncertainty better advances the plot. Oh, I did say I would remove myself from the story, didn’t I? I told a fib. Sorry.
“Mornin’” Glen said to the receptionist.
“Hello” said the attractive receptionist.
Witty, aren’t they? It occurs to your narrator that writing stories is a lot like playing with dolls.
The receptionist continued “You’re the consultant here for the meeting aren’t you Mr…”
“Glen, come on in” said the firm’s EVP, thus saving your narrator from having to come up with a last name for our hero. Glen entered the conference room and sat down for two hours of the most generic business meeting you could ever imagine. The contents of said meeting are irrelevant to our story so all I’ll tell you is if you had a well made Bullshit Bingo card it would’ve been completely filled in by the end of said meeting. Glen wondered at times why the hell he did this but then he remembered the whole earning-a-living-after-your-wife-left-you-and-took-three-quarters-of-your-life’s-savings-with-her thing.
Like all things good and bad, the meeting came to and end and like the end of all long meetings there was a parade to the bathrooms. Glen started to turn left out of the conference room and noticed that everyone else was headed right so he followed the crowd. “Must’ve misremembered where the john was” Glen thought, because only a 60 year old man still calls the rest room “the john”. More small talk around the urinals, hand washing and hand shaking and Glen was back on the street looking for a place to grab lunch before catching the early bus back home.
As Glen (or what it Glen’s narrator?) reflected on this true to form the doors slid open again and interrupted the thought. Glen turned right off the elevator and noticed an attractive receptionist at the front desk. Was there a receptionist here last time? Glen didn’t think so. As they guy writing this story I can assure you there was not, but I’m not going to tell Glen that because his uncertainty better advances the plot. Oh, I did say I would remove myself from the story, didn’t I? I told a fib. Sorry.
“Mornin’” Glen said to the receptionist.
“Hello” said the attractive receptionist.
Witty, aren’t they? It occurs to your narrator that writing stories is a lot like playing with dolls.
The receptionist continued “You’re the consultant here for the meeting aren’t you Mr…”
“Glen, come on in” said the firm’s EVP, thus saving your narrator from having to come up with a last name for our hero. Glen entered the conference room and sat down for two hours of the most generic business meeting you could ever imagine. The contents of said meeting are irrelevant to our story so all I’ll tell you is if you had a well made Bullshit Bingo card it would’ve been completely filled in by the end of said meeting. Glen wondered at times why the hell he did this but then he remembered the whole earning-a-living-after-your-wife-left-you-and-took-three-quarters-of-your-life’s-savings-with-her thing.
Like all things good and bad, the meeting came to and end and like the end of all long meetings there was a parade to the bathrooms. Glen started to turn left out of the conference room and noticed that everyone else was headed right so he followed the crowd. “Must’ve misremembered where the john was” Glen thought, because only a 60 year old man still calls the rest room “the john”. More small talk around the urinals, hand washing and hand shaking and Glen was back on the street looking for a place to grab lunch before catching the early bus back home.
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