You visit executives' offices when summoned and you shine their shoes. Most of them leave the shoes outside their doors for you to bring downstairs to the boiler room and shine them when convenient. It's the ones who keep their shoes on their feet while you shine them; they're the ones who want to talk to you about girls.
"How do I know if my wife likes me?" one will ask. Tell him that if she asks him to give her another child, that means she's got the hots for him.
"How can I tell my mistress that I know people who'll kill for money and that she should just take the eighty thousand and go?" another will ask. Tell him to say it in a public park in the summertime, when she can't wear enough clothes to hide a wire.
"I'm being indicted," another will say. You'll look up from your shine, baffled. "What do I know about legal stuff?" ask him.
He'll say, "The prosecuting attorney's a girl and she's really pretty. Should I buy her a Porsche?" Now that's your area of expertise. Say, yes, buy her a Porsche, but not before the sentencing.
The worst are the heartbroken ones. And their shines always take the longest because the leather has been worn down with tears. Jenkins in suite 9156, he's got it bad.
"We were married for twenty one years," he'll tell you again today. "How can she just throw it all away and take off in the night like that? How do I get her back?"
Tell Jenkins what you always tell him. Tell him no one can say why they go. The only thing he can know for sure is when she goes, she's gone.
You never accept a tip from the heartbroken ones. People tip to be lied to. No one should tip for having to hear the truth.
Happy You Work In A Major Corporation Day!
