Stop the week

For the last three weeks or so, the doorman of our building has been trying to hook me up with a chick who works on a floor above us.

If ever, for whatever reason, i'm skulking around the main entrance - taking a five minute breather to get my ideas together - and the chick happens to be having a smoke, the guardian always comes bounding out over towards me, shakes my hand and insistantly implies that i'm the head honcho of the place.

Well, the chick took the plunge yesterday and came in to inquire about 'what we could do for her'.

Or rather what I could do for her ...