My Personal Elevator Saga (and Why We Need to Talk About This)
The other day, I crammed myself into a crowded elevator, squished between a guy who smelled suspiciously like tuna salad and a woman loudly discussing her cat’s digestive issues on the phone. As the doors were about to close, a hand shot through the shrinking gap, followed by a breathless, “Hold the door!”
Now, I’m a nice person (most of the time). I held the door, the latecomer squeezed in, and we all inched a little closer to our personal space bubbles being irrevocably popped. But it got me thinking: elevators, those metal boxes of awkward social interactions, come with their own set of unspoken rules.
We’ve all been there. You step into an elevator, pick a corner, and revel in the momentary solitude. Then, it happens. Someone steps in, looks you dead in the eye, and… stands uncomfortably close.
Listen, I get it. Space is limited in these metal boxes of vertical transportation. But there’s a difference between “necessary proximity” and “practically smelling your hair” proximity. Respect the bubble, people! It’s not just about physical space, it’s about that invisible force field of awkwardness we all emit in confined spaces.
Elevator Etiquette Rule #2: Mastering the “Door Hold”
Ah, the “door hold.” A simple act of kindness that can quickly descend into a passive-aggressive dance of “should I hold it?” or “are they even close enough?” Here’s a handy guide:
- If someone is within a reasonable distance (let’s say, 10 feet), HOLD THE DOOR. It’s just common courtesy, folks.
- If they are sprinting towards the elevator like a cheetah on roller skates, HOLD THE DOOR (and maybe offer them some water). They clearly have somewhere important to be.
- If they are casually strolling towards the elevator, completely oblivious to your existence, it’s a judgment call. You can channel your inner saint and hold it, or you can embrace the chaos and let the doors close. No judgment here (okay, maybe a little).
Elevator Etiquette Rule #3: Silence is Golden (Unless It’s a One-Sided Conversation)
Elevators are weird, liminal spaces. We’re crammed in with strangers, pretending we don’t all hear each other breathing. It’s just a fact of life. And in this bizarre, temporary community, silence is our friend.
So please, for the love of all that is holy, resist the urge to blast your music, gossip about your neighbor’s questionable fashion choices, or answer your phone if the person on the other end is going to subject us all to a 10-minute monologue about their ingrown toenail. We’ve all been there. We’ve all silently judged. Let’s not be that person.