Elevator. The horrifically entitled girls that populate my building. They usually talk about jewelry and diss friends with less money. They are all in their 20s. They wear flats and Burberry trench coats and have sensible highlights. More than 3 of these girls are called “Piper”. (their boyfriends talk about life insurance packages, how great their future father-in-law is, and golf. They wear polo shirts with popped collars and loafers.) When they say good morning to me, it’s with a grimace like somebody farted. Maybe I will, next time.