The Elevator

I have always strived to be a true romantic. I write poetry that involves kisses so soft that you can't even feel them. I create elaborate birthday gifts with separate compartments for each of the senses. I call ahead to hotels to have flowers and chocolate laid out on our bed. I even create whipped-cream hearts on every pastry, pie, and strawberry covered pancake I've ever served to my bride. Then came the elevator.

The building that I work in has a bank of six elevators, three on each side of the wall. Every morning we gather on the first floor and wait for an elevator to arrive. Before the elevator doors open, an arrow pointing upwards is illuminated followed by a faint beep. The elevators are a bit spread out and the loading cycle is short so you need to move quickly once the doors start opening. Once inside the elevator, there is small flat-screen monitor that displays news, interesting facts, and trivia. It is imperative that you secure a spot on the elevator with a good view of the television.

The problem is that down south, the rule of thumb is to always let the girl go first. Always. As we approach the elevator, all of the guys step to the side and let the girls get on first. Even if you have been waiting 45 seconds and the girl has only waited 10 seconds, she is guaranteed a spot on the elevator. I understand the rationalization - they give birth to babies and deal with blood and mucus on a monthly basis - they should get preference here.

Where I take offence, however, is when it is time to get off. Since the girls loaded first they are now at the back of the elevator. Every stop we make, the guys part so that if a girl is getting off, she can go first. Everyone steps out of the way and watches as the girl squeezes through and walks down the hall. Then the guys follow, usually with their eyes fixated on the back of the girl in front of them.

It's ridiculous for many reasons. First off, it would be faster for everyone if the guys exited the elevator first. In the warehousing industry it is known as LIFO - Last In, First Out. The analogy often used to describe LIFO is a crowded elevator (as explained in the first paragraph of this article).

Secondly, the end result of this policy is a bunch of guys staring at some poor girl's back end. If it were my wife in the elevator, I would much prefer the guys exit first before she struts her stuff down the hall. Sometimes the guys even snicker to each other after the girl has left. It's disgusting.

Finally, if you are one of the poor soles who needs to stay on the elevator you are forced into a very stressful position. Either you can press yourself uncomfortably against the wall so that the girl has enough room to squeeze by or you can exit the elevator to make room. Exiting the elevator is dangerous since no one is certain if you are getting off or getting out of the way. First, everyone thinks you are a jerk for not letting the girl get off first. Next, you have to rush back inside the elevator so that it does not take off without you.

I still believe in romance. I will continue to complement my wife's haircut without her having to ask and give her a kiss on her forehead before I turn off the bed-stand lamp. However, I refuse to subject myself to one more day of this elevator fiasco. From here on out, I'll be taking the stairs.