for Friday Fictioneers.
Here we call them lifts, in other countries, elevators. I’m going with the former!
I hoped to be a pilot but my dream never took flight, so instead I became a lift operator in a posh hotel. It has its up and downs but I enjoy it.
It’s lovely when ladies come aboard smelling of expensive perfume but awful when men break wind, it’s wrong on so many levels.
Yesterday a lady entered displaying an enticing cleavage. ‘Please press one’ she said. I stifled a giggle!
I’m told ghosts use lifts to raise their spirits. Ooo-errr!
Today I’ve travelled 15.4 miles, the doors have opened and closed 342 times, and I’ve carried 271 passengers!
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and to Liz Young for the picture.
Click Froggie to join in the fun.