The elevator boy

Every morning when I get to my office, I have someone waiting for me downstairs.  He is my elevator boy.  Well not really mine and he's not really the elevator boy; but he waits downstairs for me every morning and when he sees me, he runs as fast as he can (literally full sprint) to the elevator and pushes '4'.  (I work on the fourth floor of the building.)  He then holds the door until I reach him, gives me the loudest 'Hi Madam, how are you today?' greeting and up I go.  When I say loud, I mean his voice is so  loud that I think all eleven floors of the building can hear him.  Over the past eight months, since my arrival in Doha, I have come to look forward to this part of my morning every single day.  If he is not there in the morning, I feel a sense of sadness...like I just got broken up with or something.

Elevator boy is from Yemen.  I'm not really sure what his name is, how long he has lived in Qatar, or if he has family here- we haven't gotten that far in our relationship yet.  He is always clean and showered, which is quite rare here.  And he wears a blue jump suit, which is what all of the maintenance/cleaning boys in the building wear.

I am not the only one who loves him.  Everyone in my office talks about him too.  There are about fifteen maintenance boys in our building (this does not count tea boys) and he is the only one that we talk about.  He makes everyone smile and feel like they're special.  

Everyday elevator boy greets me at the beginning of the day and bids me farewell at the end of it.  He is also a frequent user of the 'thumbs up' gesture and uses it all of the time.

Last weekend, I went to a concert which was sponsored by a local phone service provider.  At the concert they gave out free t-shirts that were bright red, really soft, and said Vodafone across the front left pocket.  Since I always seem to carry the largest purse, friends kept stuffing these shirts in my bag.  This left me with several bright red, size L tees.  What to do?  I thought about it and decided I would take them to elevator boy Sunday morning.  Sunday morning came, I was walking into work and there he was waiting for me.  I told him I had a gift for him and brought out the bright red tees.  I didn't know if I was insulting him by offering him clothing, but he took them and said thank you maam.

I didnt see elevator boy for the remainder of the day.  I was quite busy running around at work, so it wasnt until the next afternoon that I saw him.  As I got in the elevator, stressed and thinking about the millions of things I had to do- in jumped elevator boy.  He pushed '4' and this time rode up with me.  He said, 'Thank you for the shirts maam.  You are the only American I have ever met and you are so nice. Very nice'.

I almost cried.  He really, really appreciated the gift and wasn't insulted at all.  I told him he was more than welcome and I was glad he enjoyed them.  (Even though they were size L and he is like an XS)

Even after I leave Qatar, elevator boy will forever be in my heart.  He is definately someone special and I am no better of a person than he is. 

Fourth floor, please.