Recently, my office building has acquired several new tenants, who in turn have made daily activities more cumbersome than usual. Parking is a bear. Paying nine bucks for a sandwich at our sub-par deli now requires a long wait. And increased bathroom traffic has ruined what used to be the highlight of my day. Oh, how I long for the days of making the trek up a few flights of stairs to a vacated floor where I had my own personal stall of solitude. Nowadays, ‘tis nearly impossible to peacefully conduct my business in the restroom due to a steady stream of foot traffic, some of which include generic salesmen bringing their blue-tooths to the potty because you know, "time kills all deals" and they haven't a second to spare. That life-altering sale of theirs MUST be closed in between wipes at that very moment. And I get to hear all the details.
Now, I am grateful to be employed and shouldn't let these irritants grate on me as they do. But something more sinister is taking place amongst my new office brethren. Something I simply can't abide by. Elevator etiquette has all but evaporated. The universal protocol that should be followed by people of all faiths of any demographic is to let humans off the elevator first before you bum-rush it. Who doesn't know this? I started carrying a switch-blade to work several weeks back to thwart these evil obliviouts who can't seem to spare an extra 4 seconds to let me out before they get in. I thought I had successfully stabbed one of these offenders but was only able to puncture her pant suit. No breaking of the skin but she got the point.
Furthermore, I am a staunch believer that the purpose of an elevator is to simply move people in one of two directions, either to your place of business or the lobby so you may escape to the outdoors. It is most certainly not a place for idle prattle with strangers. Sure I've met some nice people in the building and built rapport with them to where we converse. Sure it's fine to speak with your co-workers on the way back up to the office. And I grant a reprieve for Friday afternoon banter with strangers because the giddiness level is high and people are extra chatty. Fine, but here is what grinds my gears. Arriving to work in frigid cold temperatures, I enter the elevator seeking a tranquil ride to my cube. Then a stranger slips in. He felt compelled to break the news to me that "Man, its cold out there." Perhaps he thought I have an underground, climate controlled tunnel from my domicile to work and wasn't aware of the conditions. Stranger, I'm not interested. Let’s ride the valor in peace. On other occasions, I get a lot of "Well (sigh), its Monday." Once again I'll play devil's advocate. Perhaps she thought I had time-traveled into the future that morning where in my world we follow the Mayan Calendar. Maybe she thought of herself as an ambassador to me as I entered this modern, frightening society and she wanted to at the bare minimum; make me aware of what day it was.
The most egregious elevator offender was an older gentlemen I met a few weeks ago who was wearing a beret and sporting a button on his lapel that stated "People Matter". When in the lobby in my building, it is impossible to not have the ability to discern that the only way you can go is up from the bottom floor. As a small group of people waited for the button I could sense that this man was itching to talk. I was closest to him. Sure enough, he blurts out, "We going up, huh." I said "Yep." Then we get in the crowded elevator. Doors close. He then slowly extends his arms the length of a reflective panel in the elevator. He turns to me and says, "Nice mirror." I nodded to him in agreement. This man was so infatuated with hearing his own voice that he decided to critique the aesthetics of the inside of the elevator and then seek my approval. Stranger, please let me go to my cube.
To avoid elevator related issues, this week I'm scaling the building with grapple hooks or possibly some type of webbing system like Tobey Maguire would use.
