The Mad Lady on the Elevator

I'm attempting to make up for all the days I haven't blogged so you might notice more blogs than usual in the next few weeks.

I work on the 3rd floor of a 4 floor building. Yesterday I pushed the elevator button to go up a floor to the mail room. I'd like to add here that whenever I push the elevator button, especially to go up only a floor, I feel guilty for not taking the stairs. I'm torn between making good habits and doing things as quickly as possible. I like to push the elevator button just as I walk by incase there is an available elevator already waiting on my floor and if there is not I will take the stairs. I'm silly. Anyhow, this particular day I was feeling tired and waited for the elevator. I wish I hadn't. It happened to be the bad elevator that shakes a little and takes 5 tries to close the door. Not only that, on the elevator, looking at me in the face when the door opened, was a very unhappy 20-something lady. She must not have been a co-worker because she didn't look to be dressed as such with her black hooker boots (I'm not being mean that's just the only thing I ever know to call them and I actually think they're cute) and tight jeans. Also, I expect a co-worker around this place would have been friendlier. I imagine she was someone who had a claim and was here to see a claim adjuster.

So I get on the elevator and smile. She does not smile and hits the close button of the elevator impatiently. The door closes half way. Then the door opens. The door closes half way again and opens again. I'm still blissfully unaware at how impatient and angry this lady is. She begins pushing the button over and over again in attempt to make the door close. By this time I understand she is in a hurry and sense that she is not only angry with the elevator but angry that I made the elevator stop on the 3rd floor only to go up to the 4th. So I say, "It will probably do that about 5 times before it closes." The lady lets out a big HUFF and walks off the elevator to the stairs. The door closes and I make it to the 4th floor alone.

I didn't quite know how to react to that kind of thing but I figure the poor lady might have just had her car smashed into or maybe her house caught on fire or any old thing and so I'm not mad. Some days I'm probably going to be the mad lady on the elevator. And that's my story. But from now on...I'm taking the stairs.