In the elevator this morning, the security guy that usually hangs out on the main floor was travelling with us. He started chatting up one of the passengers, a lawyer in her late 30s/early 40s about some deck chairs he picked up. He explains that his wife works at Michaels, so they picked them up cheap, and he figured that he'd stain the parts before he put the chairs together. He gets off on the 23rd floor.
As she exits on the 24th floor, she says to the rest of us, "I thought Michaels was a bar..."