There's always someone to think about

Here's another entry from my poem a week project about people I don't know.

The Guy at the Front Desk

Every morning it’s the same thing.
I walk into the gym at 5:15
I hand my pass key to the guy
at the front desk
he takes it and scans it in
says, “how are ya?”
and I’m off to workout.
His name is Henri
spelled with an i
though he doesn’t have a hint
of a French accent.
He’s tall, has a totally bald head
that he sometimes covers
with a knit beanie
to protect him from the morning chill,
and he always seems to be studying something
always standing up.
That’s it.
That’s all I know about him.
He rarely smiles
He’ll answer questions if asked
And I’m sure no matter how many times he’s seen it
on his computer screen
he has no idea what my name is.
I’m just one of the many
whom he encounters
with his standard greeting
over and over
until it’s time for him to leave
his post at the counter
at noon.