Tom the Doorman

This morning, as I was packing up my bag for the day -- shoes, sandwich, banana, cell phone, make-up -- I realized that the scarf I usually have tied on the shoulder strap of my bag was missing. I wasn't devastated -- it wasn't one of my more expensive scarfs or something with sentimental value. It was merely an accessory to my work bag, and so off I went to work.

Stop at Starbucks: One grande dark roast, please. Reminder: Must buy coffee this weekend so I can save on buying coffee during the week.

Coffee in hand, I head to work. Upon entering the building I start to fumble in my big bag for my security card, which I can never find. I say hello to Doorman Tom. He's a pleasant fellow -- smokes about a pack a day, always says "hello" when you walk in, and is either pushing 70 or just looks it because of the decades of cigarette smoking. I've always had suspicions about om being a bit of a pervert. When the building first introduced the security cards, we had to have our picture taken. After Tom asked to take my picture for the fourth time, I started getting a little suspicious. The fifth time he asked to take my photo I ran for the elevators.

However, I was pleasantly surprised this morning when he pulled my scarf out from one of his desk.

"Is this yours?" he asked? "It was left in the elevator last night."

Oh wonderful! Thank you, Tom. And then Tom the Doorman said, "I thought you were trying to leave me a message."

Oh Tom...No.