Workk...

Beep. (sorry to the classy readers who see something starting with onomatopoeia and immediately RUN in the opposite direction but yeah, get over it.) The sensor continuously reminded me of the people coming through the entry gates. Like I needed the beep between the already noisy clattering of bags and stamping feet, not to mention the cool-as teenagers with their loud chattering and the elderly on their electronic scooters. Of course I still looked up with a smile, even though to be perfectly honest, I could quite do without the constant business sounds of this environment. But customer service means that you always smile, and laugh at their jokes even when they aren’t funny. I mean, if life is a stage then those in customer service must be the main actors, after doctors of course. I mean, anybody who is entitled to anesthetise me only to cut my seemingly lifeless body open with sharp instruments must be quite good at playing ‘Mr. Responsible’ I think. Other that or actors are generally complete idiots. Hmm... What an epiphany.