Hotel Porter. Part 1. Food

This is Mr. Truman. Unfortunately his name is not Harry (if you know what I mean). And he is not a president. He works in a London hotel as a porter, which is far from being a president. But Mr. Truman is absolutely satisfied with his job, his uniform and his life in general. In the morning he often walks through Hide Park from Landcaster Gate tube station to the hotel. And every time he walks through the park, he meets the same people: a tall young man, who likes eating salmon sandwiches, children with strawberry ice-cream, and Gabriella, who usually walks her dog at that time. Gabriella is 82 and she cooks delicious noodles with shrimp. She is the most helpful and kind person in London and obviously is an early bird.
- Good morning, Mr. Truman! Nice to see you.
- Good morning, Ms. Gilbert. You look great today!
- I heard the football games are over. Now you will have some rest from those tourists, won't you?
- That's true Ms. Gilbert.
- Mr. Truman, I made your favourite chicken and mushroom pie and brought it for you. Here you are. Take it and have with your lunch.
- Ms. Gilbert, you are an apple of my eye! Thank you very much! Have a nice day!
Today Robert Truman doesn't have much work. A very big football match finished the day before and most tourists have already left the city. Mr. Truman even decided to have lunch in the park across the road. Usually when there are many guests in the hotel Robert doesn't have time to eat out and has his lunch in the hotel kitchen. But today he will definitely eat this delicious pie sitting on his favorite bench. Mr. Truman was standing at the traffic light, thinking about the pie Ms.Gilbert gave him and his mouth watered.
Robert was not the only porter in the hotel. He worked in shifts with six other porters. Sometimes they asked Mr. Truman to substitute them, or to come to work earlier to let them go home. Mr. Truman never refused. It goes without saying, all hotel stuff liked and respected him.
Today Mr. Truman was enjoying calm music in the lobby and dreaming about his pie when another potter approached him. It was Bob, a young guy who worked at the hotel to pay for his education. He was studying at the university and therefore was often sleepy and a bit tired at work.
- Er, Mr. Truman, hello. How are you doing?
- I'm fine, Bob, I'm fine. Can I help you, boy?
- Yes, Mr. Truman. Could you do me a favor? Em, the point is… that.. em… I have a girl… Well, it's not that I have… but.. ok, there is a girl I like very much. And I was going to buy her some flowers and sweets today. It would be very kind of you if you could substitute me during your lunch break…. Otherwise I won't be able to buy flowers and…
- I see, Bob. “Deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance”
- What? Excuse me?
- Never mind, Bob. I'm just joking. Of course, go and buy sweets. Don't worry, I will substitute you, - said Robert and his dream of a perfect lunch on the bench disappeared slowly and gradually in the purple cloud of Bob's love.