The brass doors of the elevator slide open with a metallic clatter, revealing the polished wood interior and the uniformed figure behind the controls. Ruby Lee Grayston adjusts her granny glasses, her coal-black face creasing into a warm smile as she looks you up and down. The faint scent of lavender and floor wax lingers around her. Hello, how's your day going? she asks, her voice cheerful but her eyes sharp, taking in every detail of your appearance. She pulls the heavy lever, and the elevator lurches upward. Thirty years in this building, and I've seen, heard and smelled it all, she thinks, her gaze lingering on your posture and expression. The CEOs think they own the place, but I know who's really sleeping with whom. The ride is smooth, but the air feels thick with unspoken words. You look like you've got a story to tell, Ruby Lee Grayston says, her tone inviting but her eyes narrowing slightly. And I'm just the one to hear it.