“OK.” Luke said. “What’s that?”

“Portering.” she said as if he should have known. “When a guest books in, one of you will be called to escort them and their bags to their room.” she said. “When a guest books out, one of you will be called to escort them and their bags to their car.” she added. “It’s not rocket science.” she sneered.

“Erm… how do we know which room it is… or where their car is?” Luke asked.

The concierge rolled her eyes. “Well it’s crystal clear why you could only get a servile job isn’t it.” she bluntly stated. “You’ll be told which room they’re in… I only hope you have the brains to find it!” she told him. “The same goes for the car park.” she dryly added.

“Yes… sorry.” Luke muttered, feeling like he’d been reprimanded for asking stupid questions when he was really trying his best to appear interested.

“Show me your nails.” she said. Luke held his hands flat and splayed out his fingers. “Well I’ve seen worse… at least you’re not a biter.” she said, before asking if he’d manicured or painted his nails before. Luke said he hadn’t. “Gavin, would you show Luke what to do.” she asked. Gavin was sat with his little bag on his lap. He stood and straightened his tunic. “Good boy.” the concierge said, before checking James and Paul’s fingernails, then telling James to reapply his lipstick because it’s not ‘immaculate’.

“Well you’ve not got off to a very good start.” Gavin said once the Concierge had left. “Being on the wrong side of her is the last place you want to be.”

“This whole place is the last place I want to be.” Luke gulped. “These uniforms are ridiculous!” he said, once again trying to drag what little he could over his lap.

“Tell us about it… up until a couple of weeks ago we wore trousers, shirts and waistcoats.” Gavin said.

“…and flat shoes?“ Luke presumed.

“No we wore heels.“ Gavin replied. “Patent court shoes.“ he specified. “These loafers are loads better believe it or not.“ he claimed.

“Our tunics certainly aren’t.“ James muttered.

Gavin agreed. “They’re not so bad so long as you remember to crouch rather than bend when picking stuff up.“ he said.

“Only you could say they’re not so bad Gav!“ James spat. “They’re ridiculous! The only reason they make us wear them is to ridicule us!“

“The only reason I applied as a porter rather than a room attendant was to avoid having to wear a dress.” Luke glumly revealed.

“Same here.” Gavin said, before gesturing Luke to sit in the seat next but one to him. His tunic felt shorter than ever as he timidly sat. He dragged it as far over his lap as possible, which wasn’t very far at all. Gavin laid his bag on his lap. Luke glanced at Paul and James, both of whom had their bags on their lap (presumably for modesty) and Luke did the same. “Have you got a manicure kit?” Gavin asked.

“Err… yeah.” Luke replied, rummaging in his clutch bag and removing the small zipped case. Inside is a little pair of nail clippers, a small metal nail file, a tiny pair of scissors, a small metal tool presumably for scraping gunk from under the nail, and another similar tool which Gavin singled out. It’s a cuticle pusher and is used to push and lift the tiny bits of thin skin where the finger meets the nail, which need cutting off. “Seriously?” Luke gulped. “I have to cut them off?”

“You won’t feel anything.” Gavin tells him.

“I know but… would anyone notice either way?” Luke quizzed. It’s such a tiny bit of skin that’s barely worthy of being called skin. Gavin tells him that the concierge will notice and if she doesn’t, the receptionists will and reminds him that he’s already on the wrong side of the concierge. Luke sighed and began the push back his cuticles, before snipping the thin slithers of skin away.