Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: urban living

  • 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)

    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!

  • 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 Hilarious Elevator Etiquette Fails

    Let’s be honest, elevators are weird. They’re these metal boxes of forced intimacy hurtling us through the air, all while we pretend we’re not crammed together like sardines on a budget airline. And the unspoken rules? Don’t even get me started.

    I vividly recall my first “elevator etiquette fail.” Fresh out of college and eager to impress at my new job, I stepped into the elevator, brimming with nervous energy. An older gentleman joined me. Silence. More silence. Then, a desperate attempt at conversation on my part that went down like a lead balloon. From that day forward, I was determined to crack the code of elevator etiquette, only to realize…it’s all a bit ridiculous.

    The Art of (Not) Pushing Elevator Buttons

    Rule number one of Elevator Club: Thou shalt master the art of the button. You know the drill. Someone timidly murmurs, “Floor 12, please?” and suddenly, you’re the designated button pusher, responsible for the hopes and dreams (and timely arrival) of everyone onboard.

    But here’s where I break the mold. I’m a firm believer in what I call “the preemptive strike.” The moment I step inside, I unleash a friendly, “Anyone need this one?” while hovering over a random button. The result? People are either highly amused or slightly terrified. Either way, it’s a win in my book.

  • The Unspoken Rules of Being a Public Transit Passenger

    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Public Transit Passenger



    My Public Transit Initiation: A Crash Course in Subway Etiquette

    I’ll never forget my first solo ride on the subway. Fresh out of high school, armed with a brand new MetroCard, and a map I swore I understood, I confidently descended into the urban underworld. Little did I know, I was about to get a crash course in the unspoken rules of public transit etiquette.

    backpack and accidentally elbowing someone in the face (sorry again!), I finally found a seat. Relief washed over me… until I realized I was practically sitting on the lap of the person next to me. It was then I learned the delicate art of the “subway spread” – a skill that takes years to master.

    Public Transit Etiquette: Mastering the Art of the Invisible Wall

    Speaking of personal space, let’s talk about the “invisible wall.” We all know it’s there. That invisible barrier we erect around ourselves on crowded buses and trains. It’s a delicate dance, really. You want to be close enough to maximize space efficiency, but not too close that you’re invading someone’s personal bubble. And heaven forbid you make eye contact. That’s a surefire way to break the unspoken code.

    Once, on a particularly packed commuter train, I witnessed a rookie mistake. A man, clearly new to the public transit game, sat down next to a woman and proceeded to strike up a conversation. Not just any conversation, mind you, but a full-blown interrogation about her life story, complete with animated hand gestures that nearly took out my left eye. The look on the woman’s face was priceless – a mix of horror, amusement, and a desperate longing for noise-canceling headphones.

    Backpack Etiquette on Public Transit: To Carry or Not to Carry?

    Ah, the backpack. The bane of many a commuter’s existence. We’ve all been there – stuck behind someone who seems oblivious to the fact that their oversized backpack is taking up the space of three people. Here’s a pro-tip, folks: when you’re on a crowded train or bus, take your backpack off and hold it in front of you. Your fellow passengers will thank you.

    One time, I was on a bus so crowded that people were practically hanging from the rafters. And there he was, Mr. Oblivious, with his gigantic backpack swinging from his shoulders like a wrecking ball. People were getting knocked left and right. Finally, a brave soul (bless her heart) tapped him on the shoulder and politely asked him to remove his backpack. His response? “But it’s heavy!” The collective groan from the passengers was almost audible.

  • 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

    Let’s be honest, elevators are weird. They’re these metal boxes that transport us through the bowels of buildings, crammed with strangers we avoid eye contact with at all costs. And yet, there’s this invisible rulebook we’re all apparently handed at birth dictating how to navigate this 30-second journey without causing a social faux pas.

    Take, for instance, my latest elevator adventure. Picture this: I’m running late for a meeting (shocker, I know), coffee sloshing precariously in hand. I make it just as the doors are closing, flinging myself in with a breathless, “Hold the door!” Everyone stares. My triumphant grin falters. The weight of their judgment (or maybe it was just the awkward silence) felt heavier than my overflowing inbox.

    elevator etiquette violation. And you know what? I’m okay with that.

    The Silent Treatment: An Elevator Etiquette Faux Pas?

    Rule number one of Elevator Club: Thou shalt not speak. Apparently, engaging in conversation within the confines of an elevator is a social sin worthy of banishment to the basement (which, ironically, is where the elevator would probably take you anyway).

    Listen, I get it. We’re all tired, rushing to important meetings, or just trying to mentally prepare for whatever fresh hell awaits on the next floor. But can we at least acknowledge each other’s existence with a polite nod or a “Good morning”? Anything but the deafening silence that currently reigns supreme.

    Elevator Button Etiquette: To Press or Not to Press?

    Ah, the age-old question: Do you press the button for someone else, even if it means stretching your arm across their personal space bubble? Or do you just stand there awkwardly while they struggle to reach?

    Here’s my take: if you see someone struggling, offer to help! It’s a simple act of kindness that won’t result in you spontaneously combusting (probably). And if someone offers to press the button for you, accept their chivalry with grace. Unless they’re pressing all the buttons. Then run.

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

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




    The Unspoken Rules of Elevator Etiquette (And How to Avoid Breaking Them)


    My Personal Elevator From Hell

    We’ve all been there. Packed into a metal box hurtling through the floors of an office building, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with strangers. Yes, I’m talking about the dreaded elevator ride.

    Just the other day, I found myself in an elevator situation so awkward, it could only be described as a scene straight out of “The Twilight Zone.” Picture this: I’m squished between a guy loudly discussing his fantasy football league on speakerphone and a woman who seems to think her perfume is a superpower.

    elevator ground to a halt between floors. The speakerphone dude’s triumphant roar (“Yes! Touchdown, baby!”) was cut short, and even the perfume lady seemed fazed. We were trapped.

    This experience got me thinking about the unspoken rules of elevator etiquette, those subtle social contracts we make to survive these short, strange journeys together. So, for the sake of humanity, let’s break them down, shall we?

    Rule #1: Respect the Elevator Bubble

    Personal space. We all crave it, especially in the confines of an elevator. Yet, some people seem to forget the concept of a personal bubble the second those elevator doors slide shut. They stand too close, their backpack smacks you in the face, their loud conversation invades your thoughts.

    Remember folks, an elevator is not your personal phone booth or karaoke stage. It’s a shared space, so let’s try to maintain a respectful distance and keep the volume down.

    Rule #2: The Elevator Button: A Sacred Duty

    Ah, the button pusher. The designated hero of the elevator ride, responsible for ensuring everyone reaches their desired floor. This is a position of power, not to be taken lightly.

    Don’t be the person who frantically presses the already-lit button for their floor. Don’t be the person who tries to squeeze past everyone else to reach a button when someone closer could easily do it. And for the love of all that is holy, do not, I repeat, DO NOT hold the elevator door for your buddy who’s running late while everyone else watches in silent agony.

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

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






    The Day My Elevator Etiquette Died (and I Didn’t Care)

    It all started with a rogue sneeze. I was crammed into a stuffy elevator, sandwiched between a man who looked vaguely like he was about to announce a hostile corporate takeover and a woman delicately dabbing at her upper lip with a napkin. The sneeze hit me like a freight train, a full-body convulsion that probably rattled the fillings in everyone’s teeth. And you know what? It felt amazing.

    As I basked in the post-sneeze euphoria, I realized something profound: I had just broken one of the cardinal rules of elevator etiquette. I had acknowledged my fellow passengers’ existence. I had, dare I say, interacted with them. And the world hadn’t ended. In fact, the woman with the napkin actually cracked a smile.

    That, my friends, is when I decided to wage war on the oppressive silence of elevator rides. I became a self-proclaimed Elevator Rebel, committed to injecting a little humanity into these metal boxes of awkwardness.

    Elevator Etiquette Rule #1: Thou Shalt Not Make Eye Contact (Seriously?)

    This is Elevator Etiquette 101. You know the drill: eyes straight ahead, fixed on the glowing numbers above the door, pretending with all your might that you’re not hurtling through space in a metal box with a bunch of strangers.

    But here’s the thing: we’re all human. We all crave connection, even if it’s just a fleeting moment of shared amusement with a stranger over a particularly wonky elevator music rendition of “Despacito.” So I say, make eye contact! Offer a smile. You might be surprised at the positive ripple effects it can have.

    Elevator Etiquette Rule #2: The Sound of Silence (Unless We’re Talking Profits)

    Apparently, the only acceptable topics of conversation in an elevator are work-related and utterly devoid of personality. Heaven forbid you should mention the weather, your adorable new puppy, or the existential dread you feel when contemplating the vastness of the universe.

    I, however, am a firm believer in the power of small talk. I’ve had surprisingly delightful conversations in elevators about everything from the best local coffee shops to the latest season of “Stranger Things.” Sure, not every conversation will be a winner, but at least I’m not contributing to the soul-crushing silence.

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