Myth-Nomers & Im-Pervections by Robert Asprin

“I think this guy wants a tip,” Kalvin said, gesturing toward the doorman. At least I still had the Djin with me. I had to acknowledge his point. The uniformed Pervect was standing stuffily, with his palm up and a vague sneer on his face that would probably pass for a smile locally. I only hesitated a second before slipping him some loose change. Normally, I would expect someone to wait until after he had performed a service before hinting for a tip, but obviously things differed from dimension to dimension. This was probably what Edvik had been warning me about . . . that the doorman would want money before moving my bag, and that if the juice wasn’t big enough, it was “Goodbye luggage!” In a way, it made sense. My speculation on this philosophy was cut short when I noticed another person, a bellhop this time, picking up my bag and heading inside with it, leaving the doorman outside weighing the tip I had just given him in his hand. I began to smell a rat.

“Where is he going?” I said to the smug doorman, as casually as I could manage.

“To the front desk, sir.”

“But he has my bag.”

“Yes. I suggest you follow him closely. He’s not to be trusted, you know.”

“But . . . Ohhh . . .!”

I knew when I had been outmaneuvered. Apparently, all the doorman did was open cab doors and off-load the bag gage . . . not carry the bags inside. Of course, the fact that I had tipped him assuming he would perform that service was my fault, not his. Defeated, I trailed after the bellhop, who was waiting inside with his hand out in the now all-too familiar gesture that means “Pay or you’ll never see the end of me.” This time, however, I was more than happy to pay him off. Whatever Edvik had said, I had decided I would be better off handling my own luggage from here on out.