Have you heard the joke about Elevator Rage?

The BBQ Pit
1

It has it’s ups and downs (rimshot) :smiley:

No, seriously though. Just a few minor elevator comments.

Without further ado, please assholes, prevent elevator-rage and heed the following:

#1) Yes, you stupid fuckwaffles, I did take the elevator to go up one floor. As it happens, I cut my foot (not badly) and it hurts like hell to do stairs, plus going up bends my foot in such a way that it keeps re-opening the cut. But that’s none of your business. NON*E. So, if you see fit to give me one of your “The SECOND floor?! That’s only one floor up! Siiiiiiighhhh” comments and/or roll your eyes at me (or worse, at the nice little old lady who’s job requires her to go from the fourth to the third floor and back all day) again, we’ll discuss your manners. Loudly. Maybe in the HR department.

#2) C’mere, mellonhead, I’ve got a secret for you. Listening closely? Good.
You can’t get on the elevator until I get off it.
Y’with me so far? Good. Then listen very closely for the second half of the secret:
I CAN’T GET OFF THE ELEVATOR IF YOU’RE STANDING DEAD CENTER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING DOORWAY! Stand to one side or the other, let me exit, THEN enter. The person exiting has the right of way. See how neatly it works? From now on, I’m just gonna stand there until you move. We can stand there, nose to nose all day like those two guys in that Dr. Seuss story. And since I’m the one who’s in charge of attendance in my department, I can take as long as I need.

#3) It’s wonderful that after years of being a social outcast, you’ve developed friendships. Now that you have a friend, let me tell you a secret: the place to have a conversation is anywhere BUT just after the elevator arrives. You’re only leaving for the day, not joining the French Foreign Legion (although if you wanted to…). A four minute “You’re my shmoopie” type conversation when one person is on the elevator and one person isn’t getting on the elevator will, in the future, cause me to join in thus:
Twit #1: You’re my bestest friend, right?!
Twit #2: YES! And you’re my goodest friend! (actual overheard comments, btw. “Goodest”? “Bestest”? I weep)
Twit #1: You can keep a secret, right?
Twit #2: <shrieks> YES!
Twit #1: Did you hear about that skank, Lana?
Twit #2: NO! Tell me!
Fenris puts his arms around both: Yes! Dish the dirt, sister! I wanna hear all the savage bile from your creamy bosom! I love the way you get all evil on people! You are sooooo catty that if you were in a box, quantum mechanics would debate if you were alive or dead! I admire that! So tell! Say, y’know, I think you’re both the keenest, ooogiest people in the whole, wide, world! Let’s go out to lunch. You treat.

#4) This one’s tricky. Really tricky. It’s not an easy either/or rule. But you can do it, I have faith in your cognitive skills :rolleyes: Ready? Here goes:
If someone’s running for the elevator, it’s polite to hold the door, not jab the “close door” button. BUT (and here’s the tricky part) at the same time, if your pal “will be along in two or three minutes” he can take the next elevator and in this case, it’s rude to hold the door. There’s some indeterminate time, say between 30 seconds and one minute where it’s polite to hold the door. Beyond that, it’s not polite. If you’re confused, please…ask for help. All the kids in the fast-learner group will be glad to share their knowledge.

#5) This one’s really minor: The elevator won’t come any faster if you hit the button every pico-second. Cursing won’t make it come faster either. Really. Scientific tests have proven this. Honest! On the other hand, you can break the button, in which case, the elevator won’t come again until it’s fixed.

#6) The elevator is neither a bathroom or the dressing room in a bordello. On an elevator, one does not:[ul]
[li]Shave with an electric razor (I’ll compromise on this one: use a straight razor and let me watch and I won’t complain)[/li][li]Put on makeup[/li][li]or worse, perfume[/li][li]Brush one’s teeth[/li][li]Q-tip one’s ears[/li][/ul]
Really. My day is just keen without watching you perform your morning ablutions.

#7) Finally, let’s talk about the 3d grade refugee who thinks it’s funny to hit all the buttons as they exit. Should I catch you doing this, I’ll personally drag you to The Security Guy who’s gotten enough complaints about this that he’s said he wants treat your ass like an Heisenburgian indeterminate wave-function and collapse it. (Actually, what he said was…earthier, but I trust I’ve captured the spirit of his comment)

Elevator rides can be a fun and exciting way to spice up your day. Following these rules can make it even better!

Fenris

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Fuckwaffles.

Fenris, I love you, you bastard.

For the record, I used to play disembodied hand in the university library elevator - slip your hand under your shirt, and whistle innocently. Start whistling the theme to Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Segue into the theme from Jaws while you stick your hand out of the collar and start strangling yourself. Make lots of strange noises.

I’m willing to betcha, since I have lots of experience with this, that the elevator will clear at the next available floor.

Whatever you do, don’t start sticking your hand up the front of other people’s shirts.

That’s a bad idea.

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Can I hear an A-FUCKING-MEN from the congregation?

Preach on Brother Fenris!

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fenris you forgot another rule:

first one on last one off, last one on first one off. When you enter the elevator please step to the back of the elevator so other people can get in. When the elevator gets to your floor wait for the other people who have to get off on the floor first. Then you can go, do not push your way thru, it’s not a race to see who gets off first. If you are at the front of the elevator and it is not your floor please step to the side, unlike you most humans cannot walk thru other people please get the fuck out of the way.

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Fenris, its comments like that that make me always open any thread you post to. Thanks…

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What about the farting? Nobody mentioned the farting! Look, your going two floors, it will take you about 1 minute, just clamp your little sphincter and hold on, okay? No need to drop a bomb that will last for a couple of hours in the non-air flow enclosed space. And this goes for you perfume-bathers, too. Even good smells are bad if they are too strong. Really.
(Oh, btw, I’m a claustrophobe, so I’m hanging on by a thread to get on an elevator in the first place. I will stand right next to the doors, no matter how crowded it gets, and I will exit like the mad fiends of hell are behind me. I think people recognize that I’m not your usual thoughtless idiot by the crazed look in my eyes, the white knuckles, and the continuing muttered prayer for the elevator not to break down, however.)

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[sub]Sorry. I couldn’t hold it anymore.[/sub]

Actually, I’ve heard the phrase “paint the elevator” as a euphemism for fart, as in when you let one rip and someone else gets on and you say, “Hmm. They must have just painted this elevator.”

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Lemme add to this…

  • Dipshits who stand outside the elevator and ask you “Is this going up or down?” should be flogged. Look at the freaking lights above the elevator. That’s what they’re there for.

  • Anyone who screams bloody murder when the elevator does anything remotely out of the ordinary should be forced to take the stairs. Just because the lights flicker or the elevator pauses slightly, it doesn’t mean that we’re all going to plunge 20 stories to our deaths at the bottom of the elevator shaft. Fucking relax.

  • Know what that buzzing sound means? It means that there are too many people on the elevator and we’ve exceeded the weight limit. So quit trying to shoehorn your ass into the elevator like it’s a Tokyo subway car. Catch the next one. It won’t kill you. I promise.

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Dang it!! All this time i’ve been deficating on that hooker while tying my tie on the elevator, not realizing how rude i was being to the other people at the hospital… i feel so bad right now…

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And don’t give me attitude when I ask you to press the button for my floor. For you see, my arms are not six feet long, and I can’t reach it from over here. If it’s not too much trouble, could you move your right hand by 8 inches and press the fucking button??? I’m sorry I forced you to expend that much energy. After all, you might not have the energy left to press the button for the lobby at quitting time, and you’d have to wait in the building all night. If only you’d been a prick this morning and sighed heavily while I’d lunged through the other eleven people on the elevator to press the “8” button, eh?

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I work on the fifth floor of my building. I haven’t taken the elevator in ten months. I get exercise and the stairs are blissfully free of elevator idiots.

I think I’ll walk down to the lobby and back up again - just for fun! :smiley:

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** Fenris** old chum, ya know I love you. But seriously, this is going to be the ‘punfest’ revisited. Elevator stories from my personal store:

  1. Why, just yesterday, as I was at the county jail, got on the elevator and it was like we were under a microscope - they’d taken all of the ceiling stuff away so all the bare floursecent bulbs were there a-blazing - of course 8 f’bs in one small enclosed space is absolutely fun for all.

  2. On the trip down, the doors opened and there was a ‘trustee’ (I’m sure some one trusted him- I could tell, his charming jumpsuit was flame orange). Cleaning. So, imagine, if you will climbing onto an elevator with some one most closely resembling the antigonists from Deliverance, using industrial strength cleaners to scrub down the railings, while simulatenously exuding his own cacophony of odors. OH, were there but more floors to traverse!

  3. I have on two occasions gotten stuck in an elevator. First when I was a child on the way TO the dentist. I must have really done something very bad in a prior life to have deserved that. The second was more recently. I’d been at a business meeting at a community college. For some reason, the meeting room was in the same building as, well a whole lotta other things, so there I was getting on the elevator, heavy briefcase in hand, dressed in business chic, and heading down with a man, oh, about 140 years old, who’d just spent an hour in the gym (no shower - what is it? was I Genghis Khan or something??). So, we get half way between floors and the thing stops half way 'tween floors. He’s not looking too healthy and with the close proximity, I’m not feeling so good either.

I pick up the handy dandy little phone, hear it ringing. Finally some one gets on ‘hello’? Yea, hi, the elevator stopped in between floors (what did he think - that I’d be ordering a pizza?). “where are you calling from?”

Pause. In the elevator?
But no, he wants to know which elevator we’re in - I guess that’s a good question - except I haven’t a clue - I’d gotten directions to the meeting room, followed some folks out and found an elevator - the halls twist this way and that, I’m not even certain we’re near a corner of the building etc. When I go to a parking ramp and park, I make it a point to note which part of said ramp - I was unaware that one should also make a point of noting relative position of the elevator one’s about to get on.

We finally establish which elevator needs repair, and he says “it’ll take about an hour to get some one here”. Now, I’ve just sat in an extremely dull meeting for over an hour where the only thing keeping me awake was the IV pole of coffee I’d put in, I’m on an elevator with Methusula who’s just finished a marathon- I’m not certain that we’ve GOT an hour.

So, I keep a running (ooooooh, don’t mention running) patter w/my companion to distract ourselves from our discomfort. And, yes, finally an hour and a half later, we were freed.

So, when ya finally make it to Michigan to visit - remember “ground level is your friend”.

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Nice work, Fen, as usual.

Both polite and honest, the beginning leads you in gently and invitingly, welling to a nicely rounded and blissfully opal-free list of explanations, rising to a crescendo of hatred for the button-strafers and a suggestion of mad-doctor inspired torture. Impressive. Consider a career in customer service.

b.