The figure by the rope

An original literary non-fiction-style account of encountering a wax figure in a small exhibition.

I apologised to the man before noticing that he was made of wax. He stood beside the rope at the entrance, one hand raised as if preparing to prevent a minor inconvenience. His dark suit was slightly shinier at the elbows than I expected. I had mistaken stillness for official patience.

The label identified him as a former local councillor. It listed dates, committees and a successful campaign for better street lighting. Nothing in that account explained why his raised hand should have stopped me more effectively than the actual notice asking visitors to wait. Behind him, the exhibition attendant was trying to open a packet of biscuits. She pointed me towards the next room with the packet still in her hand.

I went back to look at the figure from the side. The expression which had seemed alert now appeared fixed on a point slightly above my head. One eye caught a sharp reflection from the ceiling lamp. From that angle, it looked less like attention than a bright pin holding the face in place.

Other visitors passed without apologising. A boy copied the raised hand while his sister photographed him. The imitation seemed more mobile than the original, even though he had been told to stand still. When he lowered his arm, the councillor remained at his post. I left by a different door, which was entirely unnecessary. The figure had not moved, and I had already given him enough authority for one afternoon.

How does the writer use language to explore the wax figure's apparent authority humorously?