Pushing Buttons for a Living

Vanessa Rebello

I spend over 18 hours of my day between twelve floors. Going up. Going down. Taking people where they want to go. Not really going anywhere myself.

The Guptas live on the top two floors in what they call a duplex. It is the largest house I have ever seen. Six bedrooms, two kitchens, a living room, a room just to watch television, a gym and an indoor swimming pool. I’ve only been to the living room of their house - that they know of.

Mr. Gupta leaves at 7am and returns at 11pm – six days a week. He doesn’t leave home on Sundays. He’s a good man. He’s polite, hardworking and trusting… a little too trusting. He’s the kind of person who gives you a loan because you seem like you really need it. The kind of person who thinks you will honestly pay it back and not skip town with the money. The kind of person that people take advantage of.

Mrs. Gupta is not like her husband. She spends most of her time at home. So does her personal trainer. On Tuesday and Thursday evenings she goes to kitty parties and comes back with something that doesn’t belong to her. Sometimes it’s an umbrella, or a bag. Sometimes it’s silverware or earrings. She admires the glistening watch or caresses the silk scarf against her skin as she rides up the elevator. As the lift pings to indicate her floor, she stuffs it in her bag and I never see it again. She mentioned to a friend once that there’s a cupboard in the guest bedroom where she keeps these things. Such a shame that she won’t be able to file a police complaint when they’re gone.

The Gupta’s have two kids. The girl has a boyfriend. The boy has one too. The parents don’t know about either. It will stay that way as long as I work for the parents and earn from the kids.

Friday nights are my favourite. That’s when the girl goes out. Her tight dresses cling to her young body as her milky, voluptuous breasts struggle to break free. Her high heels accentuate the length of her legs and the curve of that round, firm butt. These are the kind of clothes that society says are ‘asking for it’. Surely, society knows best. Ah… Friday nights. Those are the best 15 seconds of my week. Well… maybe second best. Mrs. Gupta doesn’t always remember to close the curtains when her personal trainer comes over.