The Magic Maintenance Man

This morning as I sidled into work shortly after 9am (I simply couldn't bring myself to catch an earlier bus... something about it being Friday, I dunno), I overheard the maintenance man responding to an enquiry. You all know the man I mean: the little old guy, who must be past retirement age, who blocks the doors from all use when he is cleaning them, and rolls his carts around the floors at a speed which would rival the tortoise in everyone's favourite fable. Anyway, I guess, like the tortoise, he gets the job done, and now I may have an explanation for that phenomenon. As I walked by, a woman on a mission walked quickly up to the little maintenance man, who was standing idly by a garbage cart at the time in question, and said, "Excuse me, how do you change the bulbs in those lights up there?" She indicated the hanging lights, far above, hanging from the very ceiling of the atrium. You would obviously need a cherry picker to reach the things. The man considered her for a moment, as though he couldn't fathom why she would ask such a question... apparently the answer was obvious... and then he said, "Well. . . we're the maintenance staff." -- as though that was all the explanation her question required...
How blessed I feel to work in a building where the maintenance staff have super powers...