In preparation for our move to the cruise ship, I dropped all our dirty laundry off at the Laundromat a couple of blocks away and paid a minor service charge (about what the Hilton charges for cleaning a single shirt) for them to do the washing for me while I went back to the conference. After the conference, I collected the laundry --now wrapped in a see-through plastic package (so customers could tell which was theirs) about a cubic meter in size -- and returned to the hotel.
Standing at the elevators of the Tapa tower, I observed two young executive types walk into the lobby. As one turned to go one way, the other started to join me at the elevators. "Where are you going," asked the first fellow, "we're over here" indicating a lesser tower. Somewhat sheepishly, he replied that "They've bumped me up to Gold Executive for some reason. I'm here now."
The other executive looked seriously taken aback. "What? Well, what floor are you on then?"
"The 35th." (That's the top floor.)
"Oh, we're on the top floor now are we?" responds the other exec, half mocking, but perhaps just the tiniest bit threatened to find his colleague being treated differently. "Getting all high and mighty are we? Middle of the tower not good enough for us any more, hey? The new golden boy are we?" and so on until the elevator came to whisk us away. Mostly it seemed good hearted ribbing, but....
So there's just the two of us in the elevator, me on the 34th and the executive going to 35. Slightly embarrassed by the exchange prior to boarding the elevator, he tries to make conversation with me. "Doing some laundry then?" he asks, innocently enough.
'Yeah," I say in a mock-bitter voice, "down on the 34th floor we have to do our own laundry, not like you Gold Executive types up on the 35th floor!"
The elevator doors snick open, and I step out and as the doors close, I hear this faint "I have to do my own laundry! I think. don't I?"
Okay, it was a bit mean, but when god hands you a set up like that, you just have to go with it.