and we would love his hipster shit

"floor H"

season zero: s0e001, floor H

“‘You’ve got the wrong floor,’ the receptionist at the desk informed me. ‘This is purgatory, if you’re lookin’ for heaven it’s a few floors up’. So I did what most decent people would do, you know? I thanked the godless hipster with his red plaid shirt and thick black rimmed glasses and decided to ride the elevator further up.

'Going up?’ I said to a confused looking woman holding a black pram, with what I assumed would have been either a baby or a pet dog or something inside. 'Yup,’ she smiled, 'only place to go if you ask me’. So we rode the elevator together in comfortable silence until the doors dinged open at floor H.

Yeah. Floor H. Can you believe that shit? Ambiguous. Mysterious. Oh the multiplicity, you gotta love it. Anyways.

So I waited as the woman pushed her pram out out of the elevator and then followed behind as she proceeded to sign in at the receptionist’s desk. Her and her baby boy, as it turned out after all. I approached the desk as the lady from the elevator disappeared with her pram through a set of oak doors, and said hello to the unenthused-looking woman sitting behind a computer screen.

Before I could even state my name, she looked up at me and said 'Sorry, we’re all full. No vacancies at the moment,’ she said with a straight face, monotonous, clearly not actually sorry at all. 'But you can put your name on this waiting list and we’ll get back to you when a spot clears up,’ she finished with a half smile, handing me a wooden clipboard with some ruffled pages clipped to it. 'Just your full name will be fine, we’ll find you.’

I looked at the page on the clipboard and looked back at her in awe. 'Something wrong?’ she asked, waiting for me to sign my name. I looked back at the page and noticed an unfathomable, unpronounceable number beside which stood a blank space upon which I was to put down my name. I returned the clipboard to her without signing my name under the several names already waiting on the list, each written in their own hurried and panicked scrawl, as if writing in such a manner would shorten the wait.

'I just remembered I forgot something downstairs,’ I told her as I turned to leave.

'These spots fill up very fast,’ she called from behind as the elevator dinged open and spilled seven or eight more people.

'That’s okay,’ I say over the clamour of people exiting the elevator and walking towards her. 'There’s another floor H, I think I’ll try my luck there.’”


At that point, the crowd bursts out in laughter. I hadn’t anticipated it to be that funny, but fuck it, ya know? I’ll take it.

“Well, that’s all folks,” I say. “Thank you, and goodnight.”

“Encore, encore!” yells some fucker in the back, raising his pint in the air and spilling much of it over himself.

I sidestep and reach for he microphone one last time, “You sir, can go to hell.”

More laughter, and then everything fades to black.