Going Down
September 26th, 2007 Posted in Anecdotes, Blog Posts
Every morning I use the elevator in the building across the street from mine, taking it down to the parking lot so I can walk across the sky bridge to my office. (If this seems needlessly complex, keep in mind that the area of Seattle I call home is built on top of a mountain that engineers sliced the top off of in the ‘30s and sold as real estate. This means you’re constantly on the look-out for elevators and sky bridges that obviate the need to inch your way down steep 200-foot embankments—inchings that, if it’s early enough and you’re not paying attention to the task at hand, can easily become a pants-peeingly terrifying, rapidly accelerating two hundred-footing.)
Back to the elevator. Every morning I wait with a group of other people for the elevator. They press the UP button, I press the DOWN. We wait, jiggle our keys and make faces at each other that I’ve assumed are meant to imply a working substitute for conversation. (I’ll feel incredibly embarrassed if it turns out I’ve been giving tight-smiled nods to ackowledge that they’re merely constipated.)
Every morning, without fail, most of the people I’m waiting with file into the UP elevator when it bings!, and one of the group will break off from the herd and follow me into the also-bing!ing DOWN elevator. “Guess they’re heading for the sky bridge, too,” I think, until the elevator moves downward and they get this crushed, befuddled look on their faces. They’d watched all the sheep file into the first UP elevator, but had spotted a way to beat the rush by taking the second, thinking themselves pretty clever. Now, descending to the parking lot with a pudgy redheaded guy making faces at them like he’s constipated, they feel betrayed.
“Looks like you hijacked me!” one woman laughed, half-joking but with an unmistakable sprinkle of accusation in her voice. “I thought you were going up,” huffed a man another day, like I own the elevator or something, and enjoy spending my mornings purposely misleading innocents as to its direction.
It’s hard to get angry or indignant over it. Even for me, it’s just such a small, silly thing to get bent out of shape about. Plus, since I don’t even work in the building, I don’t think I’m technically allowed to use it. Still, though: I’m starting to resent this daily implied accusation that I’ve somehow fraudulantly misrepresented the directions of elevators to strangers. Not to spoil the secret here, but a giant circular light activates and there’s a loud bing!ing noise, you fucking meatheads. It’s not my fault you’re not checking which light it is. If you’re too lazy to pay attention, maybe you deserve to explore the parking lot for a few minutes, to pause and reflect on your navigational hubris.
No Responses to “Going Down”
By Stocc on Sep 26, 2007
I’m afraid I’m one of the people that just can’t understand how to use elevators. Just the other day I stood waiting to gown down in an elevator. When it arrived going down I thought to myself “Hmmm… This elevator is going down but I need to go down. I’d better wait for the next one.” I also constantly hold the elevator door open for people who aren’t coming in.
By Emerson on Sep 26, 2007
Slightly related, at work my company has the 8th and 10th floors. Sometimes people make comments about how our employees should use the stairs. I have a few good comebacks in mind but each scenario ends poorly.
By Ian on Sep 26, 2007
Still, though: I’m starting to resent this daily implied accusation that I’ve somehow fraudulantly misrepresented the directions of elevators to strangers.
The disparaging looks, I think, have more to do with how you laugh, point, and enthusiastically assert “this one’s going on the internet!” before following up with “Nah just kidding; I’ve seen idiots do that all the time.” Alternatively, it’s because you rifle through their pockets while feigning to smell their cologne. “I love how your hair smells!” People get defensive hearing that from a stranger. I don’t understand why.
By Ryan on Sep 27, 2007
I’m also constantly amazed by people’s behaviour around elevators. The befuddled surprise they exhibit when they see other people trying to get out as they barge in immediately as the doors open. Or how they get out the first time the door opens and are confused by the strange new decor; slowly realizing they are on the wrong floor as the elevator closes behind them. Finally, the confusing “who gets on first” dance on the main floor. As they try to decide if ladies, managers or courier guy get on first, the elevator, sensing the immense stupidity, closes it’s doors to ease the burden of decision making on their daily trip via the magical moving box…
By Ben on Oct 3, 2007
A favorite moment during my day is the few seconds I get to be an actor on the elevator. I walk into an empty elevator, hit my floor button, and lean/hide in the corner. Invariably someone will get to the elevator just as the doors are closing, often carrying books or a cake or a garden hose or whatever– something that occupies their hands. One thing they are able to do though is make eye-contact with me, pleading telepathically for me to hold the door. By now I am fully in character, first doing a double-take as to let them know I was unprepared for such action, then glancing frantically from them to the button panel and back, not being able to decide which button it is I should push. I end it by mouthing an inaudible “Sorry!” just before the door closes between us.
Even better is letting them see you reaching out your hand to stop the door, but not putting it in and letting it close, then screaming violently, loud enough for them to hear it on the other side. Man, old-folks homes are fun.
By greg on Oct 18, 2007
you wrote that whole article just so you could use the word hubris didn’t you?
By Chris Parkes on Nov 15, 2007
What about the people going all the way to the top floor standing as close as they can to the door, rather than moving to the back? Then getting all huffy and flustered when people behind them want to, you know, get off. Off the elevator that is. I’d probably get flustered and huffy if strangers starting getting off in an elevator I was riding. Probably.
Man, there is enough material on this subject for a whole sit-com. Or a brain aneurysm.