Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: awkward encounters

  • Navigating the Grocery Jungle: The Unspoken Rules of Etiquette

    Navigating the Grocery Jungle: The Unspoken Rules of Etiquette




    Navigating the Grocery Jungle: The Unspoken Rules of Etiquette

    Lost in Translation: My Cart vs. the Avocado Aficionado

    We’ve all been there. That moment in the grocery store when you realize you’re in a silent standoff with a stranger over the last perfectly ripe avocado. My personal low point involved a rogue shopping cart (mine, unfortunately), a pyramid of precariously balanced oranges, and a very unimpressed older woman who I swear muttered something about “kids these days” under her breath.

    It was an epiphany. Clearly, I needed to brush up on my grocery store etiquette. So, for the sake of world peace (and to avoid any more fruit-related incidents), I present to you the unspoken rules of navigating the grocery jungle:

    Grocery Store Etiquette: Conquering the Produce Aisle

    The produce aisle is a battlefield. It’s a place of intense scrutiny, whispered judgments about ripeness, and the occasional elbow thrown (not that I’d know anything about that…). Here’s how to survive:

    • The “Ten-Second Rule” Doesn’t Apply Here: Please, I beg you, don’t squeeze the avocados like you’re checking for a pulse. We’ve all seen that person, and spoiler alert: it’s never a good look.
  • The Unspoken Rules of Elevator Etiquette (and the People Who Break Them)

    The Unspoken Rules of Elevator Etiquette (and the People Who Break Them)

    elevator with someone who seems to have missed the memo on basic etiquette. Let’s unpack the unspoken rules of riding in a metal box with strangers and avoid those awkward (or fume-filled) encounters.

    My Personal Elevator Saga (Or Why I Wrote This Guide)

    The other day, I crammed myself into a crowded elevator. You know the drill—sardines in a can, trying to avoid eye contact or accidental breathing on anyone. Suddenly, a wave of heavy perfume smacked me in the face like a bouquet of lilies at a funeral. I desperately gasped for air, praying the elevator gods would grant me a swift descent to freedom.

    That’s when it hit me: people need a refresher course on elevator etiquette. So, dear readers, I present to you the unspoken rules of navigating these metal boxes of awkward encounters.

    Rule #1: Silence is Golden (Unless You’re the “Close Door” Button)

    We’ve all been there. The elevator doors close, plunging you into a silent abyss of strangers. Suddenly, someone decides to break the quiet with a booming phone call about their ingrown toenail. Please, I beg of you, don’t be that person.

    The unspoken rule: Elevators are sacred spaces of introverted bliss. Keep conversations brief, phone calls on mute, and personal hygiene revelations to yourself.

    Pro-tip: If you absolutely MUST answer a call, keep it short, sweet, and utterly devoid of personal details. “Hey, I’m in an elevator, can I call you back?” works wonders.

    Rule #2: The “Close Door” Button is Your Friend, Not a Weapon

    Picture this: you’re running late, desperately racing towards the elevator as the doors begin to close. Just when all hope seems lost, a kind soul inside hammers the “Open Door” button, granting you a reprieve from the stair-climbing gods.

    Now, imagine the opposite. You’re safely ensconced within the elevator when someone mashes the “Close Door” button the second you step in, nearly severing your arm in the process. Not cool, my friend, not cool.

    The unspoken rule: The “Close Door” button is not a weapon to be wielded against your fellow elevator passengers. Exercise patience and a smidge of human decency.

    Rule #3: Personal Space? In This Economy?

    Elevators are masters of spatial distortion. One minute you’re comfortably riding solo, the next you’re sandwiched between a guy humming off-key and a woman who brought her entire spice rack shopping haul along for the ride.

    The unspoken rule: Embrace the awkward. Maintain a respectful distance when possible, but be prepared to sacrifice your personal bubble in the name of vertical transportation.

    Pro-tip: Avoid eye contact at all costs. Trust me on this one.

    Share Your Elevator Adventures (We’ve All Been There)

    What are your biggest elevator pet peeves? Share your hilarious, cringeworthy, or downright bizarre elevator encounters in the comments below!

  • The Unspoken Rules of the Public Restroom (and the People Who Break Them)

    The Unspoken Rules of the Public Restroom (and the People Who Break Them)




    The Unspoken Rules of the Public Restroom (and the People Who Break Them)


    A Symphony of Awkwardness in Public Restrooms

    The other day, I found myself trapped in one of those airtight, single-occupancy public restrooms. You know the kind – the ones where the walls sweat and the air is thick with the ghosts of hand soap past. I was minding my own business, you know, when suddenly, a sound pierced the delicate silence. It was a symphony of awkward throat clearings and muffled grunts, originating from the stall next door. The culprit was attempting to engage in what can only be described as a full-blown conversation…on speakerphone.

    Look, I get it. We all have our bathroom habits, but some things should remain sacred, shrouded in the mystery of porcelain and flickering fluorescent lights. So, in the name of all that is holy and hygienic, let us delve into the unspoken rules of the public restroom, and the people who seem determined to shatter them.

    Public Restroom Etiquette: The Phone Zone is a No-Go Zone

    Let’s address the elephant in the room, or rather, the ringing phone in the next stall. Public restrooms are not your personal phone booth. No one, and I mean NO ONE, needs a play-by-play of your Aunt Mildred’s bunion surgery while they’re trying to…well, you get the picture.

    And while we’re on the topic of phones, let’s talk about speakerphone etiquette. Spoiler alert: there is none. Unless you’re a surgeon directing a life-saving procedure via FaceTime (and even then, questionable), keep your conversations private. We don’t need to know about your Tinder date or your latest stock options.

  • The Unspoken Rules of Elevator Etiquette (and Why I Break Them All)

    The Unspoken Rules of Elevator Etiquette (and Why I Break Them All)

    My Personal Elevator Everest

    The other day, I found myself in an otherwise uneventful elevator ride when it hit me: I am an elevator anarchist. Not in the sense of prying open the doors between floors or anything (that would be dangerous, kids!). But in the subtle, subversive ways I reject the unwritten code of conduct we’ve all come to accept in these metallic boxes of vertical transport.

    It all started with a harmless whistle. I was in a particularly good mood that day, sunshine radiating off my face like a personal spotlight, and a jaunty tune escaped my lips. The reactions were instantaneous: eyebrows shot up faster than the elevator itself, heads swiveled away like I’d sprouted a second head, and the air thickened with disapproval. It was like I’d committed the ultimate elevator faux pas.

    The Silent Treatment (and Other Elevator Etiquette Atrocities)

    We’ve all been there. Packed like sardines in a metal box, desperately avoiding eye contact and pretending the person mere inches away doesn’t exist. It’s the unspoken rule of elevator etiquette: thou shalt not acknowledge thy fellow passengers. But why? Is a simple “good morning” really going to shatter the delicate fabric of elevator reality?

    And don’t even get me started on the button-pushing protocol. Heaven forbid you accidentally hit the wrong floor button! The judgmental stares, the heavy sighs, the audible gasps of horror—it’s enough to make you want to take the stairs for the rest of your life.

    Here’s a revolutionary thought: what if, instead of treating elevators like moving sensory deprivation chambers, we actually, you know, acted like normal human beings? Imagine a world where brief, pleasant exchanges weren’t met with suspicion, where a simple “going up?” could brighten someone’s day.

    My One-Woman Elevator Etiquette Rebellion

    Look, I get it. Elevators can be awkward. We’re all crammed together in a confined space, silently judging each other’s choice of footwear and desperately hoping nobody smells our coffee breath. But I refuse to let these anxieties dictate my behavior. I will not be silenced! I will not be cowed by the tyranny of the “close door” button!

    These days, I make a conscious effort to break the mold. I smile at strangers (gasp!). I hum along to the elevator music (the horror!). I even—brace yourselves—engage in small talk (cue the dramatic music). And you know what? The world hasn’t ended yet. In fact, I’ve even had a few surprisingly delightful conversations in that most unlikely of places: the elevator.

    So, I Ask You, Dear Reader…

    Are you with me? Are you ready to join the elevator revolution? Or are you content to remain trapped in the suffocating silence of social convention? The choice is yours. But remember, life is too short for awkward silences and missed connections. So go forth, my fellow elevator rebels, and spread the gospel of human interaction, one floor at a time.

  • Why I’ll Never Again Ignore the ‘Close Door’ Button on an Elevator (and the Awkward Encounter That Ensued)

    Why I’ll Never Again Ignore the ‘Close Door’ Button on an Elevator (and the Awkward Encounter That Ensued)



    We’ve all been there. Trapped in an elevator, silently willing the doors to close faster. But me? I’m usually the one patiently waiting, a picture of politeness, as someone scrambles towards the closing doors. “Hold the elevator!” they shout breathlessly. And like a chump, I smile and oblige.

    The Day My Elevator Etiquette Backfired

    This all changed last Tuesday, thanks to an encounter that can only be described as “peak awkward.” Picture this:

    I’m in my office building’s elevator, heading to a meeting on the 10th floor. It’s just me and my reflection, momentarily enjoying the peace and quiet. The doors begin their slow, graceful close when suddenly… BAM! A hand shoots through the shrinking gap, stopping the doors in their tracks. Relief floods over the mystery person’s face as they squeeze through.

    Elevator Nightmare

    “Thank goodness!” the newcomer exclaims, slightly out of breath. I offer a polite smile, secretly hoping they’re going to the 9th or 11th floor. No such luck.

    This is where things take a turn for the weird. The person is carrying not one, not two, but THREE enormous gift baskets. We’re talking overflowing-with-goodies, decorated-within-an-inch-of-their-lives kind of baskets.