---------------------- Forwarded by Susan M Scott/HOU/ECT on 03/28/2000 12:06 
PM ---------------------------
   
	Enron Capital & Trade Resources Corp.
	
	From:  Lisa.A.Meador@chase.com                           03/28/2000 11:22 AM
	

To: jkbowles@hotmail.com, emily.boon@msdw.com, ashleastu@aol.com, 
merharp@hotmail.com, sscott5@enron.com, sbuck5151@aol.com, 
Edrington@Uthscsa.edu, rannlewis@hotmail.com, jesbateman@aol.com, 
jeannie.l.cooper@us.arthurandersen.com, bwallace@teksystems.com, 
annshrader@hotmail.com, Abby_Brink@Gensler.com, coinerj@aol.com, 
Nknewton@yahoo.com, colson@greenhill-co.com, meadorj@bigfoot.com, 
PerkinsM@sbmail.spring-branch.isd.tenet.edu, jflesher@kprc.com, 
mark.m.meador@usarthuranderson.com, christy.young@enron.com, 
sande.melton@chase.com, bmoss@exchange.ml.com, Will_Nolen@enron.net
cc:  
Subject: Hit the Floor - True Story




 Hit The Floor' A True Story...
          > >
          > > On a recent weekend in Atlantic City, a woman won a
          > > bucketful of quarters at a slot machine.  She took a
          > > break from the slots for dinner with her husband in
          > > the hotel dining room.  But first she wanted to stash
          > > the quarters in her room.
          > >"I'll be right back and we'll go eat," she told her
          husband
          > >and she carried the coin-laden bucket to the elevator.
          > >
          > > As she was about to walk into the elevator she
          > >noticed two men already aboard.  Both were black.
          > >One of them was big ... very big ...an intimidating
          > >figure.  The woman froze.  Her first thought was:
          > >These two are going to rob me.
          > >Her next thought was:
          > >Don't be a bigot, they look like perfectly nice
          gentlemen.
          > >
          > >But racial stereotypes are powerful, and fear immobilized
          her.
          > >She stood and stared at the two men.
          > >She felt anxious, flustered, and ashamed.
          > >
          > >She hoped they didn't read her mind, but knew they
          > >surely did; her hesitation about joining them on the
          > >elevator was all too obvious.  Her face was flushed.
          > >She couldn't just stand there, so with a mighty effort of
          will
          > >she picked up one foot and stepped forward and followed
          > >with the other foot and was on the elevator.
          > >
          > >Avoiding eye contact, she turned around stiffly and
          > >faced the elevator doors as they closed.  A second
          > >passed, and then another second, and then another.
          > >Her fear increased The elevator didn't move.  Panic
          > >consumed her.  My God, she thought, I'm trapped and
          > >about to be robbed.  Her heart plummeted.
          > >Perspiration  poured from every pore.  Then ... one
          > >of the men said, "Hit the floor."
          > >Instinct told her: Do what they tell you.
          > >
          > >The bucket of quarters flew upwards as she
          > >threw out her arms and collapsed
          > >on the elevator carpet.
          > >
          > > A shower of coins rained down on her.  Take my money
          > >and spare me, she prayed.  More seconds passed.
          > >
          > >She heard one of the men say politely, 'Ma'am, if
          > >you'll just tell us what floor you're going to,
          > >we'll push the button.'  The one who said it had a
          > >little trouble getting the words out.  He was trying
          > >mightily to hold in a belly laugh.
          > >
          > >She lifted her head and looked up at the two men.
          > >They reached down to help her up.
          > >Confused, she struggled to her feet.
          > >
          > >"When I told my man here to hit the floor," said the
          > >average sized one, "I meant that he should hit the
          > >elevator button for our floor.  I didn't mean for
          > >you to hit the floor, ma'am."  He spoke genially.
          > >He bit his lip.
          > >It was obvious he was having a hard time not laughing.
          > >
          > >She thought: my goodness, what a spectacle I've made
          > >of myself.  She was too humiliated to speak.  She
          > >wanted to blurt out an apology, but words failed her.
          > >
          > >How do you apologize to two perfectly respectable
          > >gentlemen for behaving as though they were going to
          > >rob you?  She didn't know what to say.
          > >
          > >The 3 of them gathered up the strewn quarters and
          refilled her bucket.
          > >When the elevator arrived at her floor, they
          > >insisted on walking her to her room.  She seemed a
          > >little unsteady on her feet, and they were afraid she
          > >might not make it down the corridor.  At her door
          > >they bid her a good evening.
          > >
          > >As she slipped into her room she could hear them
          > >roaring with laughter while they walked back to the
          > >elevator.  The woman brushed herself off.
          > >She pulled herself together and went downstairs for
          > >dinner with her husband.
          > >
          > >The next morning flowers were delivered to her
          > >room-a dozen roses.  Attached to EACH rose was a
          > >crisp one hundred-dollar bill.  The card said:
          > >
          > >Thanks for the best laugh we've had in years'
          > >It was signed,
          > >
          > > Eddie Murphy
          > > Michael Jordan
          > >
     >