My Personal Elevator from Hell
The other day, I crammed myself into a jam-packed elevator, desperately hoping to escape the soul-crushing monotony of my office for a glorious 15-minute coffee break. Just as the doors began to close, a hand shot out, forcing them back open. A disheveled man, phone glued to his ear, barged in, completely oblivious to the symphony of sighs emanating from the other passengers.
“Yeah, I’m in the elevator,” he barked into the phone. “Heading down… to get a… bagel.”
He proceeded to have a very loud, very one-sided conversation about his bagel order, complete with dramatic gesticulations that nearly took out a woman clutching a stack of folders.
This, my friends, is a prime example of what NOT to do in an elevator. It’s a confined space with its own set of unspoken rules, a social contract that we, as civilized human beings, are expected to uphold. But alas, some people seem to have missed the memo.
The Button Pusher: Public Enemy Number One
We’ve all encountered this menace. They storm into the elevator, eyes darting around wildly, and proceed to hammer the “close door” button repeatedly, as if possessed by the spirit of a frantic drummer.
