Phillyist Playlist: Bob Dylan at the Liacouras Center
What to Do with Your Transpass
Jonathan Safran Foer at the Free Library
Playlist Rewind: Stevie Wonder
Constitution Center Invites Artists to Revisit WPA
Please welcome new Phillyist author Joe Ross who, in his following inaugural post, is giving our manners maven a run for her money. Joe likes pirate mini golf and The Princess Bride, and has plans to ultimately rid the planet of zombies once and for all. The old-fashioned, slow-moving zombies, that is.
This morning I walked to work in the rain, sans umbrella (it was broken). I pressed the "10" and watched the door close, hoping that the morning workload would be slow so I could keep doing research for my first Phillyist article.
As it turns out, the morning workload was terrible and I was pushed into posting an alternate first article by someone I have never met, someone who works on my floor, in Accounts Payable, or Receivable, or some such "-able"... What catalyzed my last-minute change of subject?
An elevator kamikaze.
That's right, an elevator kamikaze. The phrase is defined in Joe Ross' Dictionary of Descriptive Phrases for People Who Annoy Him On a Daily Basis (I'm working on shortening the title before I look for a publisher) as meaning "one whom, on seeing the elevator door open in front of them, presses forward into the elevator car with blatant disregard for the safety of any who may be attempting to exit said elevator car, often with their head leaned forward in a half bull-rushing, half zombie pose".
We have all been near-victims of these rude people with no sense of even the most obvious etiquette, but I have noticed a recent rise in incidents. This afternoon, on my way down for lunch, with the morning's kamikaze still fresh in my mind, I was nearly struck again. A portly woman of about 35 or 40 years of age attempted, I think, to walk directly through my physical body, as if I were a ghost. Ignoring that this attempt defies all well-documented and universally accepted laws of physics, I stood resolutely right where I had been when the doors first opened.
I allowed her to position herself obliviously in the corner and press the button for her floor before I turned around and gave her the dumbest smile I possibly could. So dumb, in fact, that I think that she might have gotten the point.
I was, until recently, still under the impression that the exiting elevator patron has the right of way.
So, I ask everyone, with all due respect and kindness, please allow those departing an elevator car the slightest chance in hell of escaping before you trample them in your desperation to begin your day. Especially if they look like they may have walked in the pouring rain from Broad and Spring Garden to Market Street.
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The running of the bulls is an annual event in Spain but the barging of the elevator doors is a daily happening in our world. I say this not because the author is my son (Hi Joe!) but because I too have been on the wrong side of the elevator doors. So, let's all rise up and work on our OTIS (elevator maker) manners!
Here! Here!
Great article. Look forward to many more.
Mimi
Great job Joe! Keep it coming!
Excellent article my son , I can see that college education in all it's glory..Very interesting subject matter I must admit ..Your gift has made me feel as though I am standing there next to you being run over as well.Keep up the good work and why not take the "stairs " once in awhile ?
Mr. Ross,
I happen to be the portly woman of 35-40 years that you speak of. Let me set one thing straight. First I am not portly, I prefer pleasantly plump, and am the model you usually see in the "before" picture shown in the excercise machine or diet fad ads. Furthermore, I am not 35-40 but 29. Those were not age lines on my face which gave the appearance of an older woman, but ripples, or folds. They are everywhere. I am truly sorry for being a "kamakazie", but you took my gesture in the wrong way. I was mearly trying to keep you on the elevator to get to know you. You were sooooo cute. I didn't realize that the look you gave me was a dumb one. Actually, I thought you were flirting with me. Didn't you notice my smile? Or were you just looking at my tooth. Anyway, I meet most of my men in the manner I tried to meet you. Didn't you notice my aroma when I made the noise in the corner of the elevator? I guess you just thought it was the sound of a frog. I guess my charms just didn't work this time. Well, as Shakespeare said, or whoever it was, tis better to have lusted and lost than to never have lusted at all. If you would like a second chance at this mama, my name is Jenny and you know my number... 867-5309
Great job Joe, and so true!!!
I am familiar with this "elevator bull(y)" if you will. There is one in my building who I've been able to tame by expelling a "silent but deadly" rectal expulsion before I exit the car. The e-bull now enters the car more cautiously, if at all. Good job and good luck. Uncle J
Some simple workplace elevator equitette:
Stand to the side while waiting for the elevator. When the doors open, wait a few seconds for those who are on to get off, then proceed to enter.
No talking on cell phones in the car. It's rude and no one wants to hear about your sexual escapades from the night before or that the merger is going south.
Politely move your way to the front of a crowded car before your floor. Exit quickly and never, ever hold the door so you can continue a conversation.
Finally, if you are going up or down less than three flights, take the damn stairs unless you are carrying a significant load.
A good way to avoid this situation is to bend over (as if tying your shoe) so when the culprit rears their ugly head, they'll be going face-first into your rear.
the downside is you have to stay bent over the entire elevator ride.
+2 if you have gas.
Per the under-three flights thing:
Yes. I completely agree with you. Unfortunately, in my office building, the stairs are for emergencies only, and you can't get TO them. I hate when people take the elevator to the second, but I can't fault them for the architecture.
I believe that law of the jungle applies and that you must appear to make yourself look bigger and more threatening to vanquish these monsters.
So next time an E-bully comes at you, start flapping your arms wildly and "SQUAWK! SQUAWK!" loudly. This will undoubtedly frighten this wild beastie off to the netherworlds from which it came.
I think people should be required to display a "state-issued handicapped elevator placard" for riding between one floor only.
For people like Jill whose building is poorly engineered, the problem is easily solved. Patrons will simply have to ride the elevator from the 1st floor to the 15th floor and disembark. They can then summon another elevator and legally ride the elevator from the 15th to the 2nd floor.
Afraid that won't work, either. You need a prox card to get to every floor in my building (except the lobby). Your prox card only allows you to your floor.
Well, I guess the only remaining option is to emit a tachyon beam through the elevator's main deflector array. We could then alter the local time space fabric to delay the single floor traveller as if they were a multi-floor traveller.
You wrote a great article Joe. What you said is so true, not only in the elevator, but it also happens in many other places. Unfortunately everyone is trying to get where they are going in a hurry. I think we all need to slow down a little, and take in whats going on around us.
Great job Joe, keep up the good work.
As I mentioned to someone special to you (Mom), perhaps a book deal might be appropriate for elevator folk lore and annoyances. Great piece.
hit the door close button and your floor # at the same time and it should skip all other floors and go right to yours (in theory)
Automobiles and elevators; today the right of way for both is more about Newton's Second Law of of Motion than it is about etiquette. F=ma (Force = mass x acceleration) The elevator analogue is F = mass x assertiveness. So bulk up, project authority, and engage those elevator kamikazes.
What caught my attention was your first sentence. "...I walked to work in the rain, sans umbrella...". No, I have no concern for your health. Nor I am troubled about soggy apparel and a less than business like appearance. What peaked my attention was the use of a four letter word - sans. Apparently I have been meandering through life sans sans. Has DHS struck again? I have used the type font Sans Serif. Never before did I consider the name, but now I realize it means without-Serif. Oh God, what is Serif? Damn you Joe.