My Man Jeeves

Jeeves—my man, as you well know—is truly a remarkable man. So competent. Sincerely, without him, I shouldn't know what to do. On a larger scale, he resembles the guys who sit at the Pennsylvania Station's "Inquiries" desk and sadly stare over the marble battlements. You are aware of the Johnnies. When you approach them and ask when there will be a train to Melonsquashville, Tennessee, they immediately respond, "Two-forty-three, track ten, change at San Francisco," without pausing to think. And each time, they are correct. Jeeves, on the other hand, gives you the same sense of omniscience.