The Lowering Elevator

I do not get along with elevators.

In fact, you might say that we have a depressing relationship.

I don’t use the darn things very often. I rarely am around them. And if I am unless I have to go higher than the Fifth Floor I prefer to use the stairs.

(Okay, maybe the Fourth Floor.)

But I work as a part-time Nanny/Housekeeper/Personal-Assistant, and the lady I work for lives in an apartment building that doesn’t have stairs.

Okay, there is one staircase. Placed so strangely that no ever uses it because it is so far away from everything.

So I must use an elevator at least twice a day.

We do not play well together.

It is not the elevators fault! I am sure of that. The fault is all mine

You see, I push buttons.

But not the right buttons. That would be far too simplistic of me.

It usually happens on my way out, when I am not even in a hurry. But for some reason, my fingers miss the large triangular button pointing down, and hit the large triangular button pointing up.

My brain – quicker, for some reason, than my fingers – realizes the mistake, and attempts to correct it by hitting the button again.

But my brain is silly, and too much in the habit of pushing Coffee Maker buttons and cell phone buttons. It fails to realize that Elevator buttons  do not turn off if pushed again. All it means is that the elevator has been called to go up twice. Or three times, if my fingers were particularly stubborn.

Why, oh why, do elevators not have a cancel button?

So the Elevator creaks its way to the floor where I am. It thinks that it is going further up.

I have two choices.

  1.  Get on, try to push the button for the floor below that I desire, watch the button refuse to cooperate because the elevator wants to go UP, wait for the door to close, reset, and reopen. So I try to order it to the floor that I want again. But because I pushed that button a second time, it still ignores my current demands and repeats the waiting, opening, closing, etc.
  2. Wait until the brainless automatic door flapping finishes, hit the downward facing triangle, watch the doors reopen for the second (or third) time, and enter the jaws of the machine.

I take one or other of the options, depending on the day, and then I am faced with a whole new array of buttons.

So I hit the button that I want.

You’d think it would be that simple, wouldn’t you?

But no. By this point I am flustered, frustrated, and I can’t remember which floor I am heading for.

So I hit the wrong button.

And the my brain does the same thing. Again. I hit the wrong button twice. Expecting the second hit to turn off the button.

Elevator, why can’t you just be a Coffee Maker? That would solve all my problems.

In fact, and Elevator-cum-Coffee-Maker might even solve World Peace!


2 thoughts on “The Lowering Elevator

  1. It could be worse – you could have a talking, existential elevator like the one in Douglas Adams’ The Restaurant at the End of the Universe:

    “[W]hat else do you do besides talk?”
    “I go up,” said the elevator, “or down.”
    “Good,” said Zaphod, stepping into it. “We’re going up.”
    “Or down,” the elevator reminded him.
    “Yeah, OK, up please.”
    There was a moment of silence.
    “Down’s very nice,” suggested the elevator hopefully.
    “Oh yeah?
    “Good,” said Zaphod. “Now will you take us up?”
    “May I ask you,” enquired the elevator in its sweetest, most reasonable voice, “if you’ve considered all the possibilities that down might offer you?”

    • Ha! That would be awesome. And might eliminate my problem with buttons. My tongue is much more persuasive than my fingers.

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