(A fancy lady, who is fancy, fancies over to the desk.)
FANCY LADY: Hello. I wonder if you’d even know anything about high end shopping, but I’m looking for a few very high-end shoe stores nearby.
CONCIERGE: Wrong you are, guvnah! I only lick the mud off ya boots! Om nom nom!
CONCIERGE: (actually said) Of course. Which stores?
FANCY LADY: The first one is… Manuel Blankey.
CONCIERGE: (thinks “does she mean Manolo Blahnik?” then immediately doubts self since Concierge wears Bean Boots October-April anyway, so Googles “manuel blankey shoes nyc.” Google politely asks, “did you mean ‘manolo blahnik?’”
CONCIERGE: Did you mean Manolo Blahnik?
FANCY LADY: (glares at me, then tosses hair) I suppose.
CONCIERGE: On 54th Street between 5th and 6th.
FANCY LADY: That’s fine. How about Jimmy’s Shoe?
CONCIERGE: (thinks “is she a secret shopper trying to mess with me?” Googles “jimmy’s shoe nyc,” Google says “Showing result for “Jimmy Choo.”)
CONCIERGE: Did you mean Jimmy Choo?
FANCY LADY: Listen, I didn’t come here looking for an argument, I came to find out where I can buy fabulous high-end shoes.
CONCIERGE: Jimmy Choo is on 5th Avenue and 51st St.
FANCY LADY: Hm. Well. If you say so.
(Fancy Lady give concierge a “you are poor” look, then leaves. Concierge is a cartoon mouse who immigrated to New York from Russia on the basis of there being no cats and streets made of cheese, begins singing to the moon about family.)
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