Quotes About Receptionist

What I have always found most comforting about these forms is the trace of hope I get as I'm filling them out. How they break your life down into such tidy realms, making each seem tractable, because discrete, in a way they never are beyond the white noise of the waiting room. You get that fleeting sense that you're on the verge of being understood, truly and fully, and for the first time, if you could just get it all down in black and white before the receptionist calls your name.

Particularly fine is the top-heavy comedienne, Loni Anderson, as the receptionist whose movements turn men to stone...she keeps her head while all the men around her are losing theirs.

RECEPTIONIST LOOKED RIGHT through me as I crossed the carpeted lobby between glass-cased tanker models and clipper ship prints. I winked at her, and she spun away on her swivel chair. The frosted doors to the inner sanctum had bronze fouled anchors mounted in place of handles, and I pushed through humming a sea chanty under my breath. "Yo ho, blow the man down …" Beyond

Be good, kind, and friendly to the receptionist. She's had a hard day.

The ultimate downfall of the computerized holographic receptionist was that there was no amount of flattery, flirtation or chocolate that could convince one to lie for you.

I have never had so much fun as in Montreal. I taught the kids French, I baby-sat, I went to school, I was a receptionist at a hairdresser's, I danced and drank all night. I found that the more you do, the more you have time to do... it's weird, non?

My Plan A was to be a psychologist. I thought I would be a receptionist. I'm always middle of the road and very normal. I've always wanted a normal life, and this is what I got.

The card for the Santa Teresa cybercafe was a deepred, so red that it was hard to read what was printed on it. On the back, in a lighter red, was a map that showed exactly where the cafe was located. He asked the receptionist to translate the name of the place. The clerk laughed and said it was called Fire, Walk With Me.

I went to a radio station on Long Island in 1982, and thank goodness for me, it was so new that there was no receptionist. So the DJ opened up his booth, and took my tape and listened to it and thought it was a hit song.

I had this temp receptionist job in New York, and I kind of hated it, and in the morning I would come out of the subway and just walk along the New York streets with all these people around me and kind of sing to myself. Like, 'She's gonna make it!'

Christopher had married his receptionist, he'd still be here in town. Although the girl had been stupid. Olive could see why he'd passed on her. His wife was not stupid. She was pushy and determined, and mean as a bat from hell.

An extremely drunk man looking for a whorehouse stumbles into a podiatrist's office instead and weaves over to the receptionist. Without looking up, she waves him over to the examination bed and says, "Stick it through that curtain." Looking forward to something kinky, the drunk pulls out his penis and sticks it through the crack in the curtains. "That's not a foot!" screams the receptionist. "Holy shit, lady. I didn't know you had a minimum!

Dr. Bernard, please." "Dr. Bernard?" She looked puzzled. "We don't have—" "Dr. Milligan?" Edward turned to see Bernard entering the automatic doors. "Thank you, Janet," he said to the receptionist.

The receptionist said, "Mr. Englehardt will see you now." She led them down a corridor with thin plaster walls and a bad paint job. Englehardt sat behind a plastic-wood desk. He was probably late twenties with a slight build and a chin weaker than machine-dispensed coffee. Myron

No receptionist was sitting guard at this hour. They knocked and were buzzed into the inner sanctum. It was much nicer in here, a totally different feel and look, like they'd stepped through a wall into Diagon Alley. They

I moved on to a nursing agency as a receptionist just to get a job, and ended up managing it, which led to me opening my own - say your mom is sick and needs someone to help her, then you call something like what I had: a home health agency.

Kim Bass, Receptionist, was nowhere to be seen. This was fortunate, as I was so irritated with the way she'd treated me, I might have bitten her on the arm. I'd been a biter as a kid and I can still remember the feel of flesh between my teeth. It's like biting a rubber bathing cap, in case you're curious.

The receptionist at Horne, Buckman and Pierce, a classic battle-ax who was comfortably past her prime, eyed Loren as if she'd recognized her from a sex offender poster. Full frown in place, the battle-ax told her to sit. Randal

The battle-ax receptionist—she looked about fifteen years too old to play the prison matron in B-movies—watched the scene play out, the hint of a smile on her dry, lipstick-caked lips. Loren

The receptionist wore a hideous wig and looked at us as though we'd just plopped out of a dog's behind. I

I passed through the security turnstiles and took the elevator up to the twentieth floor. When I exited the car, I spotted Megumi—the receptionist—at her desk. She buzzed me through the glass security doors and stood as I approached.

A cheery receptionist met Donovan as he entered and said something with an upside-down question mark at the beginning.

When I hurt my knee, I knew it was time to retire from dancing, and I needed a job just to pay the bills, and I ended up as a receptionist for about three-four years.

I have a humble background. My dad was a coal miner. My mum worked a receptionist. I was one of the first people in my family to go to university.