The elevators in my apartment building have floor to ceiling mirrors, so when I'm by myself, I do any number of embarrassing things: pull out grey hairs, readjust my bra strap, and on very special occasions, impersonate Taxi Driver De Niro.
But late last night, I caught a glimpse of the computer screen at the concierge's desk. Apparently they have the elevators on closed circuit television. And so Clifford the Concierge (his actual name, I didn't make it up for alliteration purposes) has seen me at my worst. Or best. I do a mean De Niro.
It's not like it's just me though. I told my roommate what happened, and she was also surprised that she'd been watched in unguarded moments. I'd like to think Clifford the Concierge wouldn't care, but I remember what it was like when I worked as a security guard in undergrad. My colleagues had accumulated a collection of closed circuit videos saved on the desktop; of people picking their nose, making out in cars, slipping and falling on the ground, and so on. So luckily I haven't done anything THAT bad. But now that I know that I'm being watched, I'll be a lot more reserved...grey hairs be damned.
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