You Think You’re Better Than Me?

You know who I have a problem with?  Doormen.  Or doorwomen, as the case may be.  I work at a building with a doorman and it makes me uncomfortable on so many levels:

1.   He opens the door for me because that’s his job, but I bet he is secretly thinking “who is this corporate bitch and why the hell do I have the open the door for her?  No one ever opens the door for me!  You think you’re better than me?!  Huh?  Well, do ya?!”

2.  I feel obligated to make eye contact, smile and say “thank you” every time I walk through the door.  I know it’s the polite thing to do, but it just multiplies the awkwardness for both of us.  Now I have to look him in the eye and acknowledge that he’s opening the door for me (because I’m better than him) and he has to look me in the eye and acknowledge that he’s a doorman for a living  (and I’m better than him).

3.  When he sees me get off the elevator he opens the door and watches me walk all the way to the front door.  I can hear him thinking:

“Oh no, take your time.  This enormous door isn’t heavy or anything.  It’s bad enough I have to open the door for you (because you’re better than me), but now I have to wait while you act out your Victoria’s Secret runway model fantasies in the lobby hallway?  YOU’RE NO ALESSANDRA AMBROSIO!”

4.  To make matters worse, I’m positive he’s criticizing my outfit the whole time.  Well maybe not him, but his doorwomen counterparts?  Forget about it!  I bet they’re thinking “oh no girl, someone lied to you this morning!  Those pants are NOT flattering!” 


If I were truly Blair Waldorf  (like I am in my fantasies) I would have no problem with this.  I’d expect a doorman, demand a doorman if one wasn’t provided for me, and if he dared to look me in the eye I’d say “you’re damn right I’m better than you!  Stop making eye contact with your superiors and grab my bags from the car.”

Why am I even thinking about you?  You're a doorman!

Why would I care what you think? You’re a doorman!

10 thoughts on “You Think You’re Better Than Me?

  1. Ha ha ha! Love it baby. I don’t have a doorman where I work either, thank goodness… I’d hate to have to make eye contact and acknowledge what we’re both thinking!

    That Seinfeld clip was hilarious, I’ve never seen that episode, I simply must!

    • Proving my theory once again that all things in life can be explained via a Seinfeld episode!

      On Wed, Oct 9, 2013 at 11:08 AM, Mere Puffery

  2. omg! I hate the door person at our building too!! They open the door for you when you are literally 50 yards away. I end up doing that half walk half run bullshit as if that’s a consolation for them holding the door.
    And, I also feel like a bitch saying “have a nice day”…holding doors for corporate assholes who will most likely ignore you.
    HIGH-larious blog girl! and, I agree with Gary, that the Seinfeld clip is perfect

    • Right Steph? It’s like this awkward moment that neither of you can escape. We’re too laid back for doormen so it just ends up making us feel like a bunch of bourgeoisie dicks.

  3. You’re so fancy! Maybe I’ll enlist one go my 1st or 2nd graders to be my doorman. (: My doorman will be cuter than yours! Aaaaaand he or she will have fought to get the job!! Ha! (: Great post, as always. Xoxoxo

    • It’s not all it’s cracked up to be Chelsea! Now I have doorman anxiety! You’re in luck though; I don’t think 6-year-olds will judge you as harshly.

  4. Haha! I have a little confession to make. My only regular doorman interaction is when I go to yoga. Seriously, my yoga studio is on the 16th floor of a swanky hotel because that’s how they do things in Miami. And its not just one doorman, there is usually a fleet of doormen working the two heavy double doors into the hotel lobby. And I know they are judging me and my ratty workout attire, which clearly does not go with the vibe of the swanky hotel and its regular patrons. So, in order to rise above their judgement, I actually forcefully whisper to myself “I AM BLAIR WALDORF!” as I approach the door (because I parked on the street since I can’t afford the valet) before holding my head high and runway model sashaying past them.

    Yes, that’s right, I psych myself up to be a bitch as I walk into yoga because I think the doormen are judging my outfit. I might be the world’s worst yogi.

    • I regularly channel my inner Blair Waldorf. It’s the only way to survive in this post-GG world! I just had a funny idea for a skit: we see all of these doormen in a break room and we think they are going to start talking shit about all of the stuck-up yuppies they have to serve everyday, when instead they are all super nice and talk about their favorite customers. Then they start discussing Nietzsche and existentialism and we find out they’re all highly educated and just working as doormen because they can’t find Ph.D. level teaching positions in this economy after graduating from Vanderbilt University. This is funny, no?

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