Inside the small office is a large window looking into the waiting room where Gavin, Paul and James sit waiting. One wall is filled with a bank of security monitors that cover the vestibule and foyer, bar and restaurant, the corridors, car park, hallways, elevators, stairwells, everywhere but the hotel rooms themselves. The concierge sits sternly in a big leather chair. Luke’s velvet bag lays on the desk beside her. “I’m sorry about the bag.” Luke said.

The concierge sat back and clasped her hands. “Is that all you have to be sorry about?” she asked.

“Erm… I don’t know.” Luke gulped. “I did get lost in the car park a couple of times.”

“You did.” she said. “Have you any idea how it looks to a guest when one of our porters fails to do the simplest of things?” she asked. “All you had to do was walk to a car and you can’t even get that right!”

“Sorry but it was confusing… and no body told me how the car park’s laid out.”

“Didn’t it cross your mind to ask?”

Luke gulped and hung his head. It might have crossed his mind to ask if he hadn’t felt so belittled when he did ask questions. He felt like he was going to be in the wrong no matter what he did. The concierge handed him the bag. “Thank you.” he meekly said.

“You’d best check it… It’s not uncommon for one of the others to steal a lipstick or nail varnish given the opportunity.”

“Why would they do that?” Luke asked.

“Because they’re expensive and exclusive.” she replied. “You need to keep your purse with you at all times.” she told him, before asking him to check that everything was there.

Purse is another word that was always associated with a small woman’s bag. His grandmother kept one inside her clutch bag. She kept her cash and credit cards in it. These days women have wallets. Luke checked the contents of his bag; lipstick, nail varnish, manicure kit, compact, comb, tissues and his vanity mirror.

“Well that’s something to be thankful for.” she said. “The last thing you want is ‘losing company property’ adding to your list of misdemeanours today.”

“Sorry.“ Luke said. “I know I didn’t get off to a good start… I didn’t realise I had to shave my legs… I thought the uniform was just a jacket and trousers… not a dress!”

“It’s a tunic.” she corrected.

“Then I had to learn to apply my make-up.” he added.

“One hardly has to learn to cover their face in foundation Luke, and lipstick is fairly self explanatory don’t you think?”

“Yes but…”

“I’m tired of listening to your lame excuses boy.” the concierge interrupted. “It seems that even a simple portering job is too taxing for you. Heaven forbid you ever find a more complex job that involves cleaning or making beds.” she sighed. “I doubt I could trust you empty a bin properly.”

“Sorry.” he gulped. When Luke returned to the waiting room after having a strip well and truly torn off him, he felt more humble than he’s ever felt before. He was so looking forward to working as a porter but now he’s wallowing in nothing but regret. Even the simple task of escorting that lady from her room to reception, then out to her car he’d managed to get wrong at seemingly every stage.

Luke sat with his clutch bag on his lap and reviewed his wrongdoings. First, he took too long arriving at the correct room. Next time he’ll know that odd numbered rooms are in the north wing and even numbers are in the west. Knocking on the door is a big no-no since the guest is alerted of a porters approach. He should have waited, silently facing the door until it opened. Then, he bent down to grab her cases when he should have crouched, making sure his knees and ankles were together. Fortunately he was facing the guest. Had he had his back to her, she might have seen his under-shorts and underwear is the last thing a guest wants to see. Being a subordinate means he mustn’t make small talk with the guests. His role as porter is to ‘lead’ the guests, not follow them, and similarly, his role of porter is to carry their bags. The concierge had showed Luke the CCTV footage of him escorting the guest. She reprimanded him for putting a bag down when he pressed the elevator button. Again when he put the bags down inside the elevator, and once more when he put the bags down at reception whilst the guest checked out. Apparently, guests’ bags must not touch the floor between their room and their transport, but nobody told him that. No one told him anything.

His final mistakes were getting lost in the car park and failing to keep his purse on his person. The best thing that could have happened would be him getting the sack but that’s not going to happen. What did happen was twenty percent of his salary has been sacrificed until such time he can prove himself competent and capable.

“It’s the same for all of us.“ Gavin told him. “We’re only told how to do something right after we’ve done it wrong, then they can say we’re incompetent and sacrifice part of our salary.“ he explained.

James claimed it was nothing more than a cost cutting exorcise. “They wouldn’t dare try it with any of the female staff.“ he said. “Just us guys… porters, room attendants, janitors.“

“I saw one of the room attendants.“ Luke said. “He wasn’t wearing any make-up.“

“They don’t.“ Gavin said. “It’s just us ’cause we’re front of house…. first impressions and all that.“ he shrugged.

Luke also learned that the room attendants don’t have to shave their legs either because they all wear stockings, and their heels are half the height of the porters’. “Blimey… I wish I’d applied for that job instead.“ Luke sighed.

Luke waited almost two hours before he was called to reception again. This time he felt he got everything right; leading the guest, finding the room, crouching down rather than bending over, not putting the cases on the floor, not making small talk… when he returned to reception he expected some feedback, but got none. He was sternly told by the receptionist to stop loitering and return to the waiting room.

At the end of a very long day that stretched from 9am until 7pm, in which he escorted no more than seven or eight guests to or from their rooms, and spent two hours flanking the door with James… Luke finally arrived home. “How did it go love?!” his mother hollered when she heard him return. Luke didn’t reply. “Oh.” she gasped when she saw him. Luke has never felt such a deep sense of embarrassment as he did when he faced his mother. “Is that the uniform?” she asked. Luke gulped and nodded. “No trousers?” she asked. Luke shook his head. “I thought you said it was a jacket and trousers.”

“That’s what I thought too.” he gulped. “Until I put my tunic on and they told me to take my trousers off.” his sighed. “It’s been awful Mum… no one told me what to do and I got everything wrong.” he grumbled. “The concierge hates, me, the receptionist hates me. I was late getting to my post and some other guy had to stand in for me…”

“You were late? How were you late? You set off in good time.” his mother said.

“Yeah but I didn’t know that clean shaven meant I had to shave my legs as well as my chin.” he sighed, explaining that he got there in good time but then lost a good half an hour having to remove his body hair. “Then I had to put on make-up, which I’ve never done before…”

“You look very blank.” she told him. “Apart from those lips.” she said, before asking if they supplied the cosmetics. Luke nodded and drew her attention to his bag. “Oh I didn’t notice your purse.” she said. Being the exact same colour of his tunic, it didn’t stand out. “You’ve painted your nails too.” she noticed.

“Yeah.” he gulped. “I thought porters were normal… if I’d known I’d be feminised I wouldn’t have applied.”

“Ahem!” his mother said. “Feminised?!” she quizzed.

“Sorry… I mean…”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘subordinated’.” his mother said. “I see they’ve put you in heels.” she noted as she looked him up and down.

Luke nodded. “They made me walk all the way home in them too.” he grumbled. “When I went back to the changing rooms only my keys and debit card were in my locker.” he said. “No shirt, no trousers, no shoes or socks! …and do you know what they said?” he asked. “They’ve sent them home by courier!”

“I wondered what the parcel was.” his mother said. “I thought you’d bought something without my permission.”

“It’s here already?!” Luke quizzed. His mother showed him the unopened parcel. The box bore a courier’s sticker that boasted same day fast track guaranteed. “That’s gonna cost a fortune.” he grimaced. “They said the courier costs will be docked from my first pay packet.” he sighed. “And I’ve already had twenty percent of it sacrificed because they reckon I’m incompetent.”

“How can you be incompetent? All you have to do is carry cases.” his mother asked. “I know you’re just a boy but you’re not completely dim.” she said.

“Thanks.” Luke dryly replied. “I’d best get changed. This needs laundering and ironing ready for tomorrow.” he said.

“Oh leave it on for bit.” his mother suggested. “I’m not used to seeing you in servile clothes. They suit you.” she smiled. “Why don’t you go and show your sister.” she said.

“Oh Mu-um do I have to?” Luke groaned.

“Be a good boy and do as you’re told Luke.” his mother said.

Sheepishly, Luke climbed the stairs and his mother watched him take every step. His feet are perched on four inch heels that appear to give him little trouble. His long pale hairless legs appeal her eyes. The short smart fitted tunic suggests a prestigious employer and as he disappears from view, Luke’s mother feels nothing but pride.

Luke took a breath before knocking on his sister’s bedroom door. “Who’s that?” she called.

“It’s me… Luke.” he timidly replied.

“What do you want?”

“Mum told me to show you my er… uniform.” he said through the door. It opened. He gulped.

“Wow look at you!” his sister exclaimed. “And your lips!” she exclaimed. “What colour is that?” she asked.

“Er… Fuchsia Fandango.” Luke awkwardly answered.

“It’s very vivid!” she said. “Don’t you think a little eye make-up wouldn’t go amiss?”

“I haven’t got any.” Luke replied. “They only provide foundation and lipstick.” he informed her.

His sister lowered her eyes. She appeared to be studying his tunic; every stitch and dart, every button, down, down to its embarrassingly short hem. “Can I feel your legs?” she asked.

“No!” Luke said, but she ran her fingers over his hairless thigh anyway.

“Did you shave them?” she asked. “They’re really smooth.”

“It was some cream.” he replied, before moaning about how much it stank and stung.

“Turn around.” she said. Luke sighed and turned. She commented on his footwear. “How are you finding those to walk in?” she asked.

“OK.” he replied. “They were a bit tricky at first but I soon got used to them.”

“Boys do get used to heels quite quickly.” she said. “Apparently it’s because they’re naturally more suited to servile attire.”

“Nothing about this feels natural.” Luke grumbled. His heels are unnaturally high. The tunic feels unusually short. His exposed hairless legs feel unfamiliar and although he can’t see his face, he can feel the foundation clinging to his skin and the slightly tacky paint that coats his lips. “I’ve never felt so unlike myself.“ he moaned.

“That’s because Mum’s too lenient.” his sister claimed. “I think all subordinates should wear servile clothing.” she stated. “If I have a boy he’ll be in heels as soon as he can walk.”

“You can’t put a two year old in heels!” Luke blurted.

“They used to put little girls in heels so there’s no reason why little boys shouldn’t be.” she replied.

Every time someone says you can’t do that to a boy, the stock retort is they used to make girls do it, and that’s all the justification needed. “Not all the time though.” Luke claimed. “They’d have only worn heels for special occasions.”

“Were you there?” his sister smugly asked.

“No but…”

“So you don’t know then do you?” she spat. “Women spent centuries in heels and corsets, kowtowing to their so-called masters, preening and prettifying themselves, living on their knees, begging for basic human rights…”

“Yeah, spare me the history lesson.” Luke mumbled. He felt a hand strike his face. “Ow!” he whined as his palm reached his smarting cheek.

“Don’t talk to me like that boy!” his sister spat. “Who do you think you are?!”

“Sorry… but I’ve heard it all before.” Luke said. “I know women had it bad but we have it bad too.” he told his sister.

“You don’t have it bad at all.” she said. “Boys get all the easy jobs and women have to work for years to get their career.”

“Doing the chores isn’t easy… and I’ve just had a really hard day at work!”

“Well I’m not surprised that you think the housework is too taxing… you are just a boy after all.” she said. “But ask yourself this before you think a task is hard… how many years of study do you need to do before you can do it?” she asked him. This was another thing that was often trotted out to stop the boys moaning about their menial labours.

“They teach domestic science in school.” Luke replied in his defence. “If it was as easy as you make out they wouldn’t have to.”

“Only because boys are hard of thinking.” she retorted. “They don’t teach it at university do they?”

Luke couldn’t be bothered arguing with his sister. But she’s right. They don’t teach domestic science at university, or college for that matter, and these days, the only chance a boy has of getting into a college or university is if he’s cleaning it.

“Was there anything else?” his sister asked. “Or were you just disturbing me to show me how smart you look.” she asked, looking him up and down.

“Err.. yeah.” Luke glumly replied.

“Well you may as well take my laundry down whilst you’re here.” she said, opening her bedroom door fully so her brother could enter.

“Don’t you have a hamper?” he asked, seeing laundry all over the floor.

“I do but Dad hasn’t been putting it in the hamper.” she said.

“It’s not exactly hard.” Luke said as he grabbed her empty hamper and began tossing her discarded clothing into it.

“I never said it was hard, I said it was Dad’s job.” she sneered. “It’s Mum’s fault really. She’s far too lenient on him.” she claimed.

“Oh you’re a good boy Luke.” his mother said as he returned downstairs carrying his sister’s laundry. “Did she like your uniform?”

“Erm… I think so.” Luke replied, but couldn’t recall her actually saying so. “She said I needed some eye make-up.“

“I was thinking much the same thing.“ his mother replied. “Didn’t they give you any?“

“Just lipstick and foundation… they said eye make-up was optional.“ Luke replied. “Good job really because I wouldn’t have a clue how to put it on.“

“Well when you get paid you’ll have to buy some, then either me or your sister will show you what to do.“

“I doubt she’ll show me.“ Luke replied. “She slapped me across the face before!”

“I thought I heard something… what did you do to deserve that?” his mother asked.

“Nothing.” Luke claimed. “She just started lecturing me and all I said was ‘spare me the history lesson’.”

“Well you shouldn’t speak to people like that Luke.” his mother advised. By ‘people’ she means ‘women’ and whenever a woman strikes or otherwise reprimands a male it’s always the male who’s in the wrong. “Make sure you apologise to her.” his mother advised.

“Why is it me who should apologise?” Luke defensively whined. “She hit me?”

“Because you were talking down to her.”

“She’s twelve!”

“And you’re sixteen so you should know better.” his mother reminded him.

Luke sighed. “I’ll take these to Dad.” he said, before heading through the kitchen to the utility room. “Hi Dad.”

“Hello son… I didn’t know you were back. How did it go?” Luke’s father enthused.

“I hated every minute of it.” Luke replied as he put his sister’s laundry hamper on the side. “From the moment they made me wear this to the moment I got home.” he said.

“They’re making porters dress like women now I see.” his father observed.

“Don’t let Mum hear you say that.” Luke said, forcing a smile through his frown. He described how no one told him how to do anything but constantly berated him for doing things wrong. He recounted just how tiresomely boring it was, being stuck in the porters’ waiting room all day long, waiting for a guest to book in or check out. “We’re not allowed to read, there’s no TV or radio… we’re not supposed to talk so there’s nothing to do but tidy our hair, touch up our make up or manicure our nails!” Luke whined before swiftly moving on to door duty. Luke demonstrated how they had to stand; with their feet like this and their hands like that… for two whole hours and the only break they got from their unsteady stance was when they had to open the door for someone. “What a waste of time… all the other doors are automatic apart from those from the vestibule to the foyer.” Luke grumbled.

“Well a job’s a job son.” his dad replied. “Unfortunately these days there’s no such thing as a good job… not if you’re boy anyway.”

“Yeah.” Luke glumly agreed. “I’m beginning to think I should have gone for a cleaning job instead.” he said, describing the room attendant’s knee length frock. “They don’t have to shave their legs or wear make-up!“ he whined.

“Plenty of them do these days son.“ his dad replied.

“Not at the Marrion they don’t.“ Luke said as he looked down at his long hairless legs and stupidly short hemline. “I feel half dressed in this.“

“You are showing an awful lot of leg.” his dad said. “How are you finding those heels?”

“Fine.” Luke honestly replied. “Awkward at first.” he added. “But it is humiliating being perched on high heels, and having to walk all the way home in them! Can you believe that they couriered my own clothes home so I had no choice but to wear this?“ Luke exclaimed. His dad frowned and nodded. “I have to wear it to and from work every day and all I’m allowed is an umbrella if it’s raining… no overcoat!“

“A lot of employers won’t let their staff cover or conceal the uniform these days.“ his dad said.

“I take by staff you mean us males?“ Luke knowingly asked.

His dad nodded. “Thankfully your mother’s spared me the indignity of servile clothing.” he said.

“Doesn’t your tabard count?” Luke asked.

“Not really.” his dad replied, glancing down at the domestic garment he wears over his casual clothing (slacks and a shirt). Luke told of his father what his sister had said, about Mum being too lenient. “Oh she’s always saying that.” his father replied in a jovial yet edgy tone. “She’s going to be one formidable woman when she grows up.” he added. “Think yourself lucky she’s only your sister… imagine being her being your wife!”

Luke chuckled. “True.” he said, recalling how she didn’t hesitate when reprimanding him with a slap across the face.

“Does that need washing and ironing for tomorrow?” his dad asked, nodding at Luke’s tunic.

“Err… yeah.”

“Take it off then.” his father said.

“Have I got any clean laundry down here?” Luke asked. His dad handed him a small bundle, claiming he meant to put it away earlier but hasn’t found the time. “That’s OK.” Luke said as he found some underwear, some pants and a top to wear. He gave his tunic and the matching under-shorts to his father who perused the laundry tags. Luke pulled on a pair of pants. “Feels weird wearing pants with no leg hair.” he commented.

“Well enjoy ’em while you can son.” his father said. “The way things are going you won’t be allowed pants for much longer.”

“Who decided that women’s clothes were servile?“ Luke grumbled.

“The same people that decided that men should be subjugated.“ his dad said, before quietly adding “Women!“

Luke left his dad to his housework and returned to the lounge.

“You’ve changed.” Luke’s mother said when he returned from the utility room.

“Dad’s washing my uniform.” Luke replied.

“Well he could have done that later… I wanted to get used to seeing you in servile attire.”

“You’ve got plenty of time for that Mum.” Luke replied. “I signed an eighteen month contract this morning.”

“Don’t sound so glum about it… the Marrion Hotel’s an excellent place to work.” she told him.

“I’m not so sure… I can’t do right for doing wrong and I’ve already lost 20% of my rate.” he replied. “My wages will barely cover my board now.”

“Only because you failed to apply yourself. You just have to try harder.”

“I tried my best.” he claimed.

“Well it clearly wasn’t good enough Luke. I know you’re only a boy but even you’re capable of carrying luggage for a living.” his mother told him.

“Yeah.” Luke sighed. It was always the same whenever he had something to grumble about. The rules are never wrong, it’s just him who fails to follow them. The women are never harsh, it’s his fault for getting on the wrong side of them. Nothing’s ever unfair, it’s just how things are these days. He’s only a boy and as such is always in the wrong. He should try harder… and no one expects his best to be very good since he’s just a boy after all, but that’s no excuse because boys only have to do the easy jobs. No one’s asking them to have a career! Who’d be a boy in this day and age?