The Unspoken Rules of Elevator Etiquette (and the One Time I Broke Them All)

The Unspoken Rules of Elevator Etiquette (and the One Time I Broke Them All)

We’ve all been there. Packed in a metal box, hurtling upwards at an alarming speed, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with strangers. Yes, my friends, I’m talking about the wondrous social experiment that is the elevator.

The Day the Elevator Music Died (and It Was My Fault)

Now, I consider myself a fairly well-adjusted member of society. I hold doors open for people, I say please and thank you, and I even recycle (most of the time). But there’s something about elevators that turns me into a bumbling mess of social awkwardness.

Take, for example, the time I single-handedly managed to break every unspoken rule of elevator etiquette. It all started innocently enough. I stepped into the elevator, joining a businessman furiously typing on his phone and a woman with a shopping bag that looked suspiciously like it contained a small dog (or maybe just a very fluffy loaf of bread, I wasn’t about to stare).

I gave a polite nod – the universal elevator greeting – and turned to face the doors, just like the rulebook says. But then it happened. My stomach, in all its infinite wisdom, chose that precise moment to unleash a growl so loud and ferocious, it could have rivaled a bear waking up from hibernation.

The Sound of Silence (and Intense Secondhand Embarrassment)

The typing stopped. The shopping bag twitched. I swear I even heard the elevator music stutter for a second. The silence was deafening, punctuated only by the sound of my stomach continuing its symphony of digestion.

I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Instead, I did what any reasonable person in my position would do: I pretended it wasn’t me. I subtly shifted my weight, hoping to transfer the blame to the man with the phone. He, of course, was far too engrossed in his emails to notice my plight. The woman with the bag, however, was now giving me the side-eye, her face a mixture of amusement and suspicion.

Escaping the Iron (and Judgmental) Box

The next few floors couldn’t pass quickly enough. Each ding of the bell was like a tiny hammer tapping on my coffin of shame. Finally, mercifully, we reached my floor. I practically leaped out of the elevator, muttering a hasty “Have a nice day!” over my shoulder.

As the doors closed behind me, I could have sworn I heard stifled laughter. I slunk down the hallway, vowing to never make eye contact with anyone in an elevator ever again.

What Other Elevator Etiquette Rules Are There?

My disastrous elevator experience taught me a valuable lesson: some unspoken rules are best left unbroken. But it also got me thinking, what are some other universally acknowledged (yet rarely spoken) rules of elevator etiquette? And have you ever had an experience where you accidentally (or spectacularly) broke them? Share your stories in the comments below – I promise mine can’t be topped!