Doorman

What are you, the boyfriend? Here for a quickie?

Oh, I get it. Why waste time making small talk with the doorman? I should just shut up and do my job opening the door for you.

How about those Knicks? Oh, I see, on the sports page. Why do you think I wasn't reading the Wall Street page? Oh, I know. Because I'm the uneducated doorman.

You? What are you doing here? You work at this building too? Oh, sure. Poor doorman has to work two jobs to put food on the table for mother and baby. No, I live here.

So you work all day as a doorman at one building and then you stand outside your building? Yeah. You got a problem with that?

You really think you're better than me, don't you?

Hey, we're twins. What?! Our shirts, they're the same. Imagine that.

I traded shifts with the night doorman. He had personal affairs to attend to. My fellow doormen and I watch out for each other. We don't stab each other in the back like people in your world.

Then watch the door for a minute. What? I just want to get a beer. Be back in a minute. Wait a second. What do I do? It's not brain surgery. Open the door for people. If they don't live here, don't let them in.

You know, he's a comedian, Mrs. Payton. They don't know how to do anything.

So you didn't even want the couch? No, I was just messing with his head. And they think they're better than us.