We wait for the lift. We've been waiting a few minutes. It's quite bleak in the vestibule and a French couple are waiting behind us.
The doors open: a family with a buggy and luggage, a man at the back. Nobody moves. The man at the back tries to exit but the man in front of him is not interested in moving. He says, in English, 'Well I can't get out, you'll have to wait.' The man behind him gently protests, in French-accented English, to no avail. A few seconds of muttering ensue.
The doors close on this unfortunate tableau.
Moments later, they reopen. Frustrated Frenchman tries again to leave, Rude Englishman tells him he 'should have taken the fucking escalator'. Something in me goes ping.
Me: oh do you need help! Please, let me help! *rushes forward and grabs suitcase and huge bag of pampers from Rude Man before he can react*
Rude Man: I don't want to get out
Me: I know you don't, but he does
Rude Man: Well he could have taken the fucking escalator
Me: And you could be less rude
Surprisingly, this cows Rude Man, who retrieves his belongings and gets back in the lift. In the brief interim, Frenchman has exited, so all seems well. The doors close on him and his stoic wife and children.
Moments later, the doors open again. Rude Man's humiliation deepens and he repeatedly and helplessly jabs the button for the floor he is on. 'There are only two levels,' I say, 'the one you came from and this one'. 'But there are three buttons!' he replies. He's not wrong, but it is quite clear that this is the floor they are meant to be on. They exit the lift. He stalks away, muttering 'Go fuck yourself' at me, but quietly, and from a distance. His wife and children follow.
'Have a great day!' I call after him. We laugh. The French couple laugh. We all board the lift and get on with our days.
The only trouble with exchanges like this is, I fear he will be utterly horrible to his wife and children for the rest of the day.
Also, one day I'm going to get punched.
No comments:
Post a Comment