The chair facing the corridor

An original first-person fictional account of an invented short-term exhibition job.

They gave me a chair facing the corridor and told me to keep the exhibition door closed during each presentation. Visitors arriving late could wait beside me until the next break. I had imagined helping with the objects, perhaps answering questions about them. Instead, I learned the length of the corridor by watching shoes approach along it.

The first late visitor was carrying a folder under one arm. She looked through the glass panel and reached for the handle. I explained the arrangement. She sighed, checked her watch and sat down with the folder balanced on her knees. From behind the door, a burst of applause made the wait feel more deliberate than it was.

I began to dislike the chair. It seemed to turn every explanation into a refusal. People asked how long remained, and I listened for clues in the muffled speech as though I had special knowledge of the speaker's plans. I did not. I had a timetable whose neat blocks of colour were already becoming optimistic.

During the next break, the presenter came out and asked whether anyone had been kept waiting. I pointed to the woman with the folder. The presenter thanked me, then spoke to her at once. She was bringing a corrected caption needed for the display. I had followed the rule perfectly and delayed something the exhibition needed.

After that, I asked visitors what they had come to do before explaining the wait. Most still needed to wait. A few needed someone else, and I could find that person. The chair remained in the same place. By the end of the day, it no longer seemed to face only one direction.

How does the writer show the narrator's changing understanding of the exhibition job? Support your answer with references to the passage.