I wish I had an ax murderer for every time someone says "I dunno" when I ask them if they 1) know the name of the person they're coming in for, 2) know which building this person is in, 3) how they made it past third grade.
I see that dazed look gazing at the floor, the blank wall, anywhere except the *DIRECTIONAL SIGNS* all over the damn place, and I grit my teeth, plaster a smile on my face and say, "Can I help you find something?", 'cause that's the kinda person I am - annoyed and insincere if you're an idiot who can't help yourself.
Take today - (please), I see this middleish-aged, nicely dressed guy with an elderly lady, who I correctly assumed was a mother / son duo, and they had the look. I grit and plaster and ask the question. Here's what I get,
"Uh, she's coming to see Ver ...", "Vel ..." something ..., and they said to come to the second floor."
And then, AND THEN, you get the look. The look that says, "You should know exactly who I'm talking about, and you should be able to tell me exactly where I need to go. I'm waiting. I have an appointment to get to ..."
That look.
Upon further questioning, this fully functional appearing person had 1) no idea who his mother is coming to see, other than "Vel ..." or "Ver ..." , "or something ...", and 2) admitted that the office's receptionist had 'given him directions', that he, "didn't pay much attention to .."
So now it becomes my job to figure out who "Vel ...","Ver...", "or something", is and where his office is in the myriad of buildings and offices.
I guess he thought it was going to be like in the airport - when you're rich enough or famous enough to have some guy in a cap and uniform standing at the front door with a sign that has your name on it, who steps forward and says, "Hey! There you are! We've been waiting for you! Step right this way!"
Wouldn't that be great for all of us!
But it ain't like that. Instead I'll keep grittin' and plasterin' and wishing for Lizzie Borden to come sprinting around the corner -
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