Stories About Elevator People

Over the years I have worked in many places and many settings, but never before three weeks ago had I worked in a large, high-rise office building.

Thus far, I have averaged four elevator trips a day, many of which have been solo, and several of which have been shared with complete strangers.

And one of which was shared with someone I went to elementary, middle, and high school with, and also college.  I hadn't seen this person since we graduated; apparently without school to thrust us together, we were incapable of keeping in touch.

Until we met on the elevator.

"Becky?" he asked incredulously my first Friday on the job.

"Whoa, do you work here?" I asked.

The more I continue to ride the elevator, the more I see the potential for a regular blog feature.  My God, the complexity of elevator etiquette alone is enough to fill volumes.  For instance, I've noticed some people tell me to "have a nice day" as one of the two of us leaves the elevator and some don't.  If they do, I usually respond in kind...though not always.  Today, in fact, I was told to "have a nice day" by a woman exiting the elevator before me, but she never once looked at me and she growled the words under her breath so I didn't immediately understand what she said.  By the time I'd worked it out, the doors had closed.  I felt halfway guilty for not returning the sentiment...but then maybe not, because something tells me she wasn't being entirely genuine when she said it.

Another time, I got into the elevator on my way home and shared the ride to the parking garage with a strapping young lad who was staring intently at my purse.  It was weird enough that I turned to look at him and he jerked his head up.  "I was just looking at your bag!" he said, before resuming his staring. 

I took the initiative that day.  I told him to "have a nice day."  But that was mainly because I wasn't quite sure what was going on there and thought perhaps I should do a good deed to override whatever bad karma had landed me in the elevator with him to begin with...

The more I think about it, the more awkward sharing an elevator is.  It's a tiny space.  The person (or people) with you spend every day in the same building, just like you do, but you have no idea who they are or where they go when they get off on their floor.  Who was that guy who all but danced around in the waiting area after punching the "down" button today?  What about the woman who primped her hair in the mirror for the entire ride and then sighed heavily as she left?  Or the man who talked to me about the heat?  Is he keeping up with watering his plants?  I'd never recognize him if I saw again, but in half-a-minute's time, I learned without a shadow of a doubt that he is a man who loves his plants.

It's fascinating.  Clearly, this will have to be a series...