Stupid Elevator.
We have successfully moved into our new apartment in the Wheaton towers. It is beginning to feel more like home the more we get things into place. The view from our balcony is awesome. I anticipate watching the leaves change from there. Free air conditioning is a definite plus. Not because I particularly like having the place at 60 degrees, but because we don't feel a financial burden when Richard decides he likes it that way. There are yoga classes included in my gym membership in the building that we live in. There's also a dry cleaner downstairs, though I don't make a habit of buying anything that needs to be ironed, much less dry cleaned, so that's a moot point.
The one thing I am having major difficulty with is the elevator. I am not particularly afraid of heights or of small spaces, so the occasional strange noise doesn't phase me. What I am concerned with, however, is elevator etiquette. This elevator has already physically trapped me in a number of awkward social situations. First of all are the general questions of etiquette: "Should I talk to this person or pretend that she's not here?", "Should I reach over this person and press my floor button or break the silence and ask them to press it for me?", and "How do I respond to drunk guy who wants to shake my hand and is thoroughly confused that both my friend and I have been given the same name?" Oh, wait, that last one was not general. And then there is the little old lady who has on 4 separate elevator rides asked if we have water in our apartment. I have considered a preemptive strike when I see her: "I am so glad that the flood on the 7th floor did not affect us."
I have succesfully mastered the socially acceptable "Morning Elevator Conversation". This mostly involves some comment about coffee or not having had coffee or a caffeine iv drip and if someone responds with, "I don't drink coffee." or is too chipper, abruptly ending the conversation and staring sullenly into the corner. I also can handle the "Conversation with Little Boy who is Going to Fight the Monsters Outside". Duh. No brainer. What kind of monsters? Where are they hiding? Do you know any kung fu moves to fight them with? (His mom loved me after that one as I headed the opposite direction and he started flailing wildly.)
Now all I have to do is figure out the rest of the scenarios.
The one thing I am having major difficulty with is the elevator. I am not particularly afraid of heights or of small spaces, so the occasional strange noise doesn't phase me. What I am concerned with, however, is elevator etiquette. This elevator has already physically trapped me in a number of awkward social situations. First of all are the general questions of etiquette: "Should I talk to this person or pretend that she's not here?", "Should I reach over this person and press my floor button or break the silence and ask them to press it for me?", and "How do I respond to drunk guy who wants to shake my hand and is thoroughly confused that both my friend and I have been given the same name?" Oh, wait, that last one was not general. And then there is the little old lady who has on 4 separate elevator rides asked if we have water in our apartment. I have considered a preemptive strike when I see her: "I am so glad that the flood on the 7th floor did not affect us."
I have succesfully mastered the socially acceptable "Morning Elevator Conversation". This mostly involves some comment about coffee or not having had coffee or a caffeine iv drip and if someone responds with, "I don't drink coffee." or is too chipper, abruptly ending the conversation and staring sullenly into the corner. I also can handle the "Conversation with Little Boy who is Going to Fight the Monsters Outside". Duh. No brainer. What kind of monsters? Where are they hiding? Do you know any kung fu moves to fight them with? (His mom loved me after that one as I headed the opposite direction and he started flailing wildly.)
Now all I have to do is figure out the rest of the scenarios.
posted by Foodie on a Diet at
2:24 PM
2 Comments:
Congrats on the new luxury digs. Very nice. Also, the best thing about my work elevator is everyone just nods when they get one and says "Have a good one" when the get off. Nice and simply--and still scary.
Thanks, we're liking it so far. We'll have to have a little party after the craziness of the next couple of weeks is done. It's been way too long since we've seen everyone.
Seems like good advice; "Have a good one." Polite...yet leaves the person wondering, "A good what? One of what?" By the time they'd respond, the elevator doors have closed, ending the conversation for you.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home