In the halls there were colleagues that could make you crack up laughing. There was one with a little flag on his jacket who said he spoke French. At the Museum they gave a flag distinction to those who spoke a foreign language and they earned a bonus of 150 pesetas a month. This guy could not speak French. If anyone asked something, while we were both in the elevator, "S´il vous plait… le toilette?," he would answer in his pig French, "Oui, oui, pasillé, le finé, a la izquierdé, escaleré, bajaré". And I would say, "The truth is, the way you speak French, anyone, just anyone can understand you." And he contended, "In the end, they make it to the bathroom." Of course they did, because he would accompany them and of course he was tipped for his services. It's the typical absurd scene you get in a film with Tony Leblanc [a Spanish comedy actor].
People from all walks of life have worked here. Even Tony Leblanc once worked here as an elevator operator, as he told me himself. They were shooting a film here and I went up with him and all the materials in the Velázquez elevator. And he said, "When I was younger I worked here as an elevator operator. I know how to move that." I said, "Very well." Then he said, "I'm going to give you a tip, when we get down I'll tip you." I'm still waiting for it, too late now cause he's no longer among us. He used to say he was born here. His parents lived here, so of course he did live here. Ignacio was his father's name and they called him El Bigotes because he had a huge moustache. And I remember often seeing him, after he had retired. He would sit on the bench in the round central part of Hall no. 1 and would speak to the concierge about his things.
He began to work at the Museum as an elevator operator, then as a guard and finally, from 1997, as a carpenter for the Museum, which was his true profession.
Interview recorded on December 19, 2017