Joe, the guy who works in the lobby of my office building, is one of the most awesome people I know. He’s even slightly ahead of Harrison Ford, but that’s only because I don’t actually know Harrison Ford.
Every morning that I come in, he knows exactly the right thing to say.
If I’m having a bad morning, and I’m tired from staying up too late to watch The Island (c’mon Abram, you’re not fooling anyone – what kind of “major company” do you leave if there’s really a “big deal” closing? You quit you fucking pussy) then I know that when I offer a “Hey Joe” he’ll just give a “Good morning Chris” back.
Nothing more. No pressure to talk about work or anything else.
Then when I come in and I’m having a good day, he’s right there, ready with any reply necessary.
If I’m talking sports, he talks to me about how he’s still not happy with the Jets. If I’m telling him about how I just got a new shirt back from the dry cleaners and there’s still stains on it because I happen to eat like a small child, he tells me, “I’m real sorry to hear that Chris.”
I mean, he’s perfect!
Now I know you’re probably wishing you could come to New York and steal him for your building, but I haven’t even told you the best thing he ever said to me.
About a week ago, it was raining like crazy and there was no end in sight. I walked in and being my usual witty self, told Joe, “It’s a beautiful day!”
But Joe had something even better than that. He smiled and said, “A beautiful day for ducks!”
I was floored – a beautiful day for ducks! It was the most perfect reply I had ever heard, and on top of that, that’s all he said. Because he knew that was all that needed to be said.
Whatever they’re paying Joe, they need to double, no triple it. Men like that only come around once in a million years.
Imagine what he’s like at a cookout! Or maybe don’t, your brain might explode simply from the thought of it.