Diet Coke Lift
In the office the third lift over is always breaking down. Arrive at floor and ‘ping’ the doors open 2 inches and then stop. This means standing around in the lift for 5 minutes until the doors reset themselves and close, then shoot you up to a floor you don’t want to be on. Once the doors open we are so happy to be free of the lift that we walk back down to the sixth floor, rather than take the chance on the lift doors getting stuck again.
Never, never, never has a man the likes of the Diet Coke Bloke come abseiling to our rescue. Our office is full of overweight, middle-aged men in glasses who guffaw loudly at their own jokes and sport large red whiskey noses. Which, if I told you where I work would make perfect sense.
Think, old school.
Think, old boys club.
Think, money.
If anyone did come abseiling into the lift it would be one of rather large and out of shape security guards. Then again, I guess Coke wouldn’t sell half as much if the Diet Coke Bloke had a beer belly and combover.
Just sayin’ like.
