So far I have been wrong about assuming that working front desk for a coporation would be hell. Not only do I find that I enjoy being here, but tonight alone as shown me that Friday nights are THE nights to work for the best perks and creepy, yet entertaining, phone calls.
First, a doe-eyed 20something delivery boy chatted with me for a few minutes before bringing the order to a guest and I considered it nothing but idle chit chat until he returned a short time later with a fresh large pizza for moi. He was flustered and blushing which made me laugh and make a mental note to wear a skirt and my form fitting blue shirt more often in hopes of getting some chicken kickers or cheesy breadsticks next time. Of course little does he know that as soon as I get home tonight my boyfriend will gleefully enjoy his flirtatious gesture.
And second, a phone call which I at first thought was simply a wheezy older gentleman turned into a breathy, creepy old man. He started off the conversation about how he does freelance photography and got my name and work number from someone I know (cue my immediate suspicion towards Travis who is probably none too happy that I want nothing to do with him) and then segwayed it into asking me about my height and if I considered modeling. I was giving him half-assed answers out of sheer boredom until he told me that he works for Hustler and inquired about my bra size. Avoiding the question and making sure he felt like the biggest douche bag possible, I went into brief, albiet guilt-ridden, story of my cancer legacy and hung up the phone.
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