Elevator Diplomacy

Coming home from yoga, I happened to get on the same elevator with one of the hall’s maintenance men (whom I have seen many a time for all the things that seem to go wrong in my flat).  We didn’t say anything to each other until he got off the elevator.  The conversation transpired as follows.

:doors open on third floor. maintenance man gets out::

Maintenance man: Oh, I didn’t recognize you.  How are things?

Me: Yeah, I’m well.  You probably didn’t recognize me because I’m all sweaty and not wearing any makeup.

Maintenance man: Your hair is different.

::doors close::

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