Thursday, June 28, 2007

The receptionist[s]

I check into this firm. There's a lovely lady at the front desk. My day's just been made. Loads of endorphins are being produced. That gorgeous-woman high. I'm having a gigagaga moment. Giga gaga gaga. It's all I can muster. At some point in this interaction, I got to see her strut her stuff up and down the office corridor. <insert appropriate exclamation here>.

There's a certain brightness to her appearance. An eagerness in her smile. An enchantment to her voice. What am I saying. Crazy talk. Anyway. If I was a business owner, I'd go to that firm for any service I needed that they provided. The very next day. Here is my contact. Oh, my mobile [personal] number won't do? Sorry, what was I thinking. Here's my office number. And. Do you have access to email? Yeah? Let me just add mine to the bottom here. Thankfully, I stopped at that, and left.

Same scene, different cast. The leading lady this time wasn't as striking physically, but the way she spoke made her equally captivating. Confident. Pleasant. Apologised 2 mins after the appointment time had come and gone. Who does such a thing.

It's one of the places I'm grateful for an endurance of gender imbalance. Front desk jobs. Makes for a pleasant experience. Perhaps not so much for [straight] female clients/visitors but the world isn't exactly fair anyway. This business of putting stern faced security guards at reception desks is a real dump[er].


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