"As if our overly starched and ironed uniforms aren't a dead give away," one said. "What's that smell?" One of another pair asked as one of the other asked at the same time. "Probably her hairdoo," one responded and flipped the side of it up a little. A hand smacking away. "Don't touch it. It's gotta last for a month."
"Is that coffee I smell."
"It is." The desk clerk said. "Can I ask a question?"
"Not why you're here."
"Can I have some coffee?"
"I'm not deaf. And if I was you wouldn't have to speak to me like that. Like I'm re," a look, "Retro in the brain department."
"Chief has his way of doing these meetings,"
"We're on desk duty. And,"
"No coffee for you," a short, stocky man appeared from a meeting room, "until you all pick a seat for your immediate superior; lay out your paperwork which there shouldn't be much of since you prepared; and wash the mugs left in the sink."
"Where's the sink?"
"And, we're not staying long. We are on a mission to quality check the errand service."
"That for the elderly?"
"It's for people who've had their health checks and have permission of usage."
The desk clerk rifled through a verirable palette of sticky notes. "We did have one complaint in that area." The Chief stepped towards the desk. "Let me hear."
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