I get to my office building on a Monday morning. It’s foggy, and we’d set the clocks forward an hour to go back to Standard Time. So, we’ve all lost an hour of sleep and are still trying to regroup after that waste of an hour. (I really wish they would drop the whole Daylight Savings thing; there’s absolutely no use for it and only stresses people out and makes everyone (read: ME) bitchy trying to recalibrate to the time change!)

But I digress.

Perhaps I’ll leave that discussion for another day, since this one is more about absolute stupidity, and less about the time change. Then again, maybe they are related.

Anyway, I entered the lobby where the security guards are keeping an eagle eye on everyone walking in, having visitors sign the guest book, directing people to their proper locations, checking IDs, and verifying that people are using the correct elevators for the correct uses.

Oh, wait … that wasn’t happening.

Instead, the security guards were discussing things amongst themselves (Whether it was the changing of the guards or just a plain old bullshit session, I don’t know). There is a bank of five elevators – oddly numbered one through five – with the fifth elevator specified as the freight elevator. Keep in mind that freight elevator appears to be on a separate call system from the call buttons on the wall (e.g., pressing the up button will call elevators one through four, but not five). I believe that freight elevator is called by the security guards; my guess is they call it with either a magical button, faery dust, unicorn farts, or a magic want…


Regardless, it’s a Monday morning. Like any other Monday morning, I’m trying to get to my desk to punch in for the day without being late; only this time there’s an older gentleman (I’m using the term loosely) holding elevator number four’s doors open with cardboard while he’s carrying other stacks of large cardboard into the elevator and leaning them against the wall to go to – Lord only knows where!

Watching this tragedy play out in front of me, I pressed the call button to call another elevator, hoping against hope that perhaps the magical faery dust or unicorn farts have transferred the freight-ness from elevator five to this one, and that my ringing for an elevator might produce another one.

Alas, every time I pressed the call button, the light would go off because there was already an elevator open – the one this guy was using as a freight elevator!

I tried a couple more times hoping maybe one time wasn’t enough, but each time the button didn’t work. Eventually, the old man peeked his head out of the elevator and mumbled to me, “You want to use this elevator to go up?”

“Uh… Yes…” I responded.

The look he gave me was enough to melt fur (good thing I wasn’t wearing mine that day), and he huffed back into the elevator he was loading, and started flinging the large pieces of cardboard out of the elevator back into the lobby. If he’d have tossed them any faster, it would have looked like the elevator sneezed them out. Finally, he took the last piece of cardboard which stood in the door, keeping the elevator doors from closing, and stepped aside with a sneer. Thinking whether I should step on the cardboard to get to the elevator or wait until they were moved, I quickly decided to walk on them since the elevator doors began closing (what a nice guy to hold the elevator for me – oh wait! He didn’t!).

Actually in hind-sight, I should have let them close without bolting for them; then slowly and very dramatically, looked over at him with glare that would have set him on fire. But then again, hind-sight is 20/20, isn’t it?

Instead, I dove for the elevator doors, and shoved my hand between them just before they shut. I stepped in, pressed my floor, and as the doors closed, I sighed heavily and said to myself (loudly), “REALLY?”

Gee, I love Mondays…