Picture this: you walk into an elevator, and there’s already someone on it. It’s a man and he’s standing right in front of the buttons. He doesn’t turn and ask you “what floor?” but stares straight ahead. Or maybe he clicks around on his phone. You step forward, reach around him a bit, and push your button.
My friend — let’s call him Roger — is the guy on the elevator.
He has a thing about people expecting him to push their buttons. “That’s not my job,” he says, acting very put out. “I’m not an elevator operator. They’ve got two hands.” When he told us about this quirk at a dinner party, we gave him unrelenting grief for it. “What if someone walks in carrying packages? If it’s a delivery man/woman carrying stuff, would you offer to push buttons then?” He said a half-hearted “maybe.” It’s a case-by-case basis, he said. This response unleashed a horde of ridiculous scenarios on our part. We were having too much fun with it.
“What if it’s a birthday clown and he’s got a big bouquet of unwieldy birthday balloons?” Roger’s flat expression only fueled our fire. “What if it’s a nun holding the hands of two small children?” “A ventriloquist, dummy in hand?”
We have continued to tease him about this over the years.
I need to mention that he’s not a jerk and is a really good guy. This elevator thing is a hot-button issue for him (sorry, couldn’t help it). Sometimes when I see him I’ll ask, “Pushed any buttons lately?” or “How’s your elevator life coming?” And he might reply, “yeah, actually you’d be proud, I’ve offered to push a lot of buttons these days.” But the truth is, I can understand his reluctance. Some of it stems from the expectation of the other party. Maybe everyone is tired of people pushing them into things, even pushing buttons.
Which reminds me of another conversation I had with a friend about music. A group of us had been discussing concerts we’d seen, groups we’d like to see, what kind of music we like to listen to for what particular occasion. That’s when the subject of jazz came up. “I hate jazz,” she said. “All that frenetic pace and
“Make you?” I had never considered this idea about music before. Sure, I think a lot of music and musicians are wanting to connect with the listener, to have him/her go on some type of emotive journey with the musician. But make you feel a certain way? I mean, if you can say that for jazz, can’t you say that for all kinds of music? “What do you listen to when you want to relax? Or have something easy in the background? Like Jack Johnson?” “Oh, Jack Johnson is even worse! So annoying! He’s trying to make me be mellow! If I want to be mellow, I’ll be mellow, but you can’t make me!”
Turns out, we get our feathers ruffled when we feel like anyone is trying to make us do something.
We want to make choices of our own free will. Have a musical experience of our choosing. Decide to extend some elevator etiquette and push a button. Or decide not to.
Speaking of elevator etiquette, I ran across this chart on a National Life elevator website. I want to meet the person who designed this. If it’s you, please contact me immediately; I want to take you to lunch. There is some deep philosophy going on here. You never know where you’re going to find existential thoughts so perfectly illustrated in graphic cartoon form. Why can’t all instructional brochures be as entertaining and illuminating as this one?
I don’t know about you, but I won’t look at an elevator the same way ever again! “Know where you’re going in life?” “Don’t be an agent of chaos?” Also, now I’m making “aromatic excellence” a theme at home with my boys. All this time I barely gave my elevator ride a second thought, except to make sure that the number of people riding with me is an acceptable number to be stuck with should there be an emergency. I am no sardine-player. I’ll
Besides pushing buttons, my friend said he doesn’t like holding the elevator door open if people are a long way away. Which reminds me of the Curb Your Enthusiasm episode where Larry David comes up with a mathematical formula for such instances (here he’s holding open an office building door): type of person + distance= whether or not he holds the door open.
So here’s a question: Are you a door-holder? Are you a button-pusher?
Do you have rules for it, or do you generally try to do it when you can? Does the idea of any of it make you feel put-upon, that people are feeling entitled to expect that kind of treatment? Maybe you think certain music is also trying to make you react a certain way, pushing you to feel things or get into a mood you don’t want to be in.
If I see you, I’ll try to hold the door open for you. And you can hold the elevator door open for me unless it’s really crowded, in which case I’ll just take the stairs, thanks. And on our elevator ride, I hope there’s no smooth jazz. I wouldn’t want anyone to have to relax.
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To read my previous post, “Sometimes There Is No Hidden Meaning,” click here.
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