I’m tempted to start a short film project featuring the concierge in my office building. She’s a heavy set woman in her mid-forties, and she clearly hates her job. Or me. One of the two.
I’m generally friendly to strangers. I go out of my way to say hi in the elevator. I strike up conversations over the bathroom sink. I ask cashiers how their day is going and actually listen to the answer. I figure we’re all in this together, so why not get to know each other a bit?
Apparently the concierge disagrees with my approach. Every time I greet her in passing, she gives me a stare that borders on hostile — a stare that I would probably reserve for people whose incompetence negatively and directly impacted my day. Oh, and she never actually answers me, even when I frame up the exchange with a question.
“Good weekend?” I’ll ask on Monday morning. She stares back as if I formed the words using Pig Latin.
I’ve gathered that she does speak English, because there are sometimes people hanging out talking to her. But for whatever reason, she’s decided she doesn’t want anything to do with me.
Bless her heart – that’s not the best approach to take with me. Because my response to that? Game On.
Fine line between a concierge and an animatronic chicken.
Case in point: Today, heading out for lunch, when I stepped off the elevator, she was in the middle of a huge yawn and we locked eyes. So as I walked by, I tapped her desk and said, “Late night?!” and winked at her. (No response, btw.)
Other days, I’ll make comments that are ludicrous – like whipping in from a downpour and commenting, “Been outside lately? It’s gorgeous!” without a trace of sarcasm.
And still: no response. I’m beginning to think she’s an Animatronic Concierge that our property management company leased from Chuck E. Cheese.
Each day I plan to get a bit more ridiculous in my attempts to engage her, just to see what will happen. In my mind, I’ve gone as far as to imagine walking in pantless and asking her if she can recommend a dry cleaner. Or bringing in a cat in a cat carrier filled with squirrels.
Because those are the places my mind goes. That’s normal, right?
I just can’t understand why she won’t be my friend.
pithypants 