Stephen Bruno’s memoir, “Building Material,” centers on his life as a Manhattan doorman over the past 20 years. For the last 14, he has been at his current workplace, a high-end building on Park Avenue that is home to about 60 residents.
Mr. Bruno, 42, was raised in the Bronx as the oldest of seven siblings in a Puerto Rican and Ecuadorean household. His father also works as a doorman — a job Mr. Bruno, who moonlights as a salsa dance instructor, got him.
Mr. Bruno lives alone in an Upper East Side apartment four subway stops from his job. Writing has not made him rich, but he is not complaining. As a doorman, “I get paid well,” he said. “I can’t say I’m doing poorly.”
CLICK AND GO I wake up at 5 in the morning and the first thing I do is stretch for 20 minutes. It’s a mixture of regular stretching and some yoga. I have a herniated disc on my back, so if I go to work and stand up too long, I’m going to blow out my back. I stretch until I hear that click, the click in my back, and then I get ready to go. I make instant coffee and a protein shake and get my lunch out of the fridge and pack it all up in my book bag. I grab a pair of dress socks and go to work really casual, in sweatpants and running sneakers.
SHIFT INTO GEAR On the way to the train, I walk past my coffee guy. He’s one of those corner guys. I grab another small coffee and a scone from him. He’s been there for years. I want to support him. When I get to work — I should be there 10 minutes before my shift starts at 7, but sometimes the stretching takes a while and I get there late, at 7 — I change into my uniform at the building. I put my lunch in the boiler room, where we all put our lunches so they can stay warm during the shift. I get dressed and go upstairs. One of the things I did at home is put pomade in my hair so I don’t have to do it at work.
FORBIDDEN CHAIRS I’m going to be honest with you: I don’t really do much on Sunday. I don’t hate working on Sundays because it’s such an easy, quiet day. I sit down in one of the forbidden chairs I’m not supposed to sit in. They’re really nice leather chairs inside the building, not in the vestibule. My boss knows I sit there and he doesn’t care. It’s so quiet. Very few residents are around on Sundays.
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