I. AM. JAMES. BOND.

6.3.11

7:34 pm

 

Okay, I am looking for straight-up praise here, so bring it on:

The fourth floor of one of the buildings called down to security to tell them an elevator wasn't working.

The security fool who fielded the request for help was on a personal call and, after telling the floor she'll be right along and hanging up with them, proceeded to go right back into her conversation, ignoring the elevator.

This person...is one of those special people who include everyone in a 400 foot radius into her phone conversations.

Whether you like it or fucking not.

So.

I surreptitiously, oh so surreptitiously, opened my cell, dialed the number here, answered when it rang, said, "Yes, I understand" a few times and then hung up.

I turned to Chatty McLoudface and told her the floor had just called me about the elevator as well, sending her off her loud ass phone call and on her sloth-like, stumbling, bumbling way.

I. AM. MOTHERFUCKING. JAMES. BOND.

And this bitch is Blofeld, yo.

SUGGIT!!!!!!!

*cue "We Are The Champions" as I ascend into the heavens wearing a jet pack* 

7:41 pm

BRILLIANT SHIMMERING GOD DAMN GLORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As I was basking in the glow of my jet pack's afterburners, I hear a blast of static come across the security department's radio and then:

"*static*-elevator!  *static*-in the elevator! Repeat! I am stuck in the elevator!"

Yes.

The one I had just sent to fix the elevator.

The loud one who was ignoring her duties -her simple, scattered duties- that one...just got stuck in the same elevator she was sent to fix.

Apparently, she was trying to prove to the nurses on the floor that the elevator wasn't broken, it was just working really slowly.

Oh the dancing joy I feel at this moment...

I'm going to call people and tell them of my triumph...

 

8:20 pm 

Just got off the phone with Philip.

At 8:10, about a half hour after that fateful radio transmission, the aforementioned moron fart stormed back into the office.

She seemed mad for some reason...

*second chorus of "We Are The Champions", louder; more, larger jet packs, piloted by tigers, make lazy circles in the air, banner unfurl as I float off into the ether*

I am now going to write a review of The Grind Show for Phil.

Make sure to buy a copy on Sunday night between 8pm and 9pm!