Dramatized reading of why lifts (elevators) are awkward

I work in a building, with a lift. Well, two to be exact but that’s neither here nor there. I use it regularly, and stairs just aren’t an option for me unless I am going to a lower floor – sue me – I don’t like climbing up 5 flights.

So, let’s get the best possible scenario here;

You take the lift alone. You breathe a sigh of relief when the lift doors open to show an empty space as opposed to a bunch of suited up, tall men squashed tightly together in a weird sandwich because not one of them could wait an extra two minutes for the other lift to arrive.

So, you see your reflection from the lift mirror instead. Walk in and hope that it doesn’t have to stop on any other floor while you enjoy a short moment of peace and quiet. In those rare moments – you get a peek at what makes life so great – empty lifts.

Scenario number dos

You have a meeting with your colleagues so it only makes sense to go to the meeting room together. But wait. It’s upstairs. We have laptops and drinks and we all hate being active so all of us wait for the lift.

Even the wait is slightly awkward while you make forced small talk that ought to be short enough that you don’t have to carry on talking in the lift because as you already know, no one talks in the elevator. So, we file in, invade each other’s personal space, breathe in our tummies hoping the lift door shuts and we’re not the idiot that’s hovering around the sensor and holding everyone up – it shuts.

And suddenly you are shut off from the world. It’s just you and your semi-friendly colleagues who you’ve managed to build a working relationship with, not a ‘we can survive a lift together’ kind of relationship – that’s a serious relationship for me, married-like. For some reason, everyone always goes completely silent which obviously doesn’t help – or is that a British thing?

The seconds it takes to reach your floor feels like forever. And then the lift stops on a mid-floor, opens, and you have a bunch of people staring at your hunched self, awkwardly waiting for the lift to close again while you, once again, smile awkwardly hoping that fucking lift shuts.

The second you hit your floor and the door opens, the chatter begins again. Seriously – it’s another dimension that alters even human behaviour.

Scenario tres

Same start. Wait. Lift. Opens. Strangers but it’s not packed enough for you to say you’ll wait for the next one. So yes, you shuffle in. Oops, you can’t reach your phone while holding your laptop so where the hell do you look? The ground is far too obvious, not people’s faces – dear God not people’s faces. The mirror? Ha. Yeah right. Way to look like an up-yourself bastard (that’s only for you to know).

Why isn’t the lift moving? Oh, no one has pressed the button. Someone do something please. ‘It’s getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes’ – no please don’t. Just don’t.

Ah, a genius has pressed the button, we’re moving, we arrive. We hit up rehab.



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