I'm pretty anti-social when it comes to elevator travel. I get in, punch out the panel (seriously, the buttons gotta be 30 years old and work about as well as a Democrat with an empty wallet), go to my corner, close my eyes and wait to arrive at my destination.
And, if you can't get my meaning from me giving you the silent treatment on the elevator, you'll pretty much get it from the hostile body language being thrown in your direction.
In spite of all this fun, people still try to make me participate in casual conversations. Now, I'm not much of a conversationalist in elevators fro two simple reasons: my co-workers are 75% female, and my co-workers are 75% female. If you're a guy, put your mind in the gutter and you'll get that statement. If you're a gal, don't put your mind in the gutter, because you'll still get that statement with no further prodding from yours truly.
Now, I'm one of those people who mastered the fine art of hearing w/o listening. Which, in a nutshell, is like having lunchroom blather in your immediate area and not tuning into any part of the blather. Conversations go on in the elevator and I simply let it go in and out w/o stopping. Every once in a while, something wickedly stupid will be said, which in turn will make me tune in just to see what's the hub-bub.
Yesterday was a classic case in point. Traveling with several other women where the topic of choice was shoes:
This went on for about thirty seconds or so, ya know, and they touched upon cute shoes, shoe storage, what shoes to wear, what shoes are comfortable, and finally, driving. In other words, stuff that would a guy zombie out to the nth degree.
Anywho, one of my coworkers tried to drag me into the conversation by saying, "You don't have that problem with your shoes?"
I've learned to pick and choose my battles over the years, and when you're outmanned/outgunned in a tiny elevator, the very last thing you do is ignore the question. That's like committing a very public suicide with your reputation.
So, smart guy that I is, I answered. However, I had no really snappy retort to offer (8a in the morning usually means....well, you know what it means), but I had to come up with the something. If you push the play button, then you'll get the something.
Fortunately, the elevator stopped at my floor, the doors open and I WAS SAVED!!!!!!!! HALLEUJAH!!!!! I WAS A SINNER, I SAW THE DEVIL, THEN I SAW THE LIGHT AND I WAS SAVED!!!!!
Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating just a smidgen with the Jimmy Swaggert channeling, but man, being in a elevator with enough women who could make your life exceptionally miserable is enough to make you walk those 16 flights of stairs to the 8th floor on a daily basis.
(c) 2015 BOOKS BY G.B. MILLER. All Rights Reserved.