Up and down, ding, ding, ding. Open and close. This is the life of an elevator. For the elevator in the Curry Student Center, life is a little more stressful; I think either I or the lift may need a prescription to Paxil.
The Northeastern News’ offices are on the fourth floor — we are very worthy of the elevator ride. The editors work very hard; we’re up there sometimes to see the sun rise and our paper gets put to bed before we do. We have earned that glass box lifting us four floors.
Now in my fifth year working for The News, I have had enough. I need to teach people elevator etiquette. For those of you who take the elevator one floor, for those of you who stand there for a moment not knowing what to do when the doors open and for those of you who think you can squeeze just two more people into a packed lift, this is your day of reconciliation — the time has come.
My friend and fellow editor Bobby Hankinson shares my views about those of you who take the elevator one floor.
“If you aren’t a member of the Cardiac Arrest Club, take the stairs,” he said. This club has an excuse because, yes, it literally would kill them to take the stairs.
For those of you not enrolled, I’m willing to schedule times to show people where the stairs are. When I’m trying to get upstairs because I have to edit, write stories and eat my lunch that is getting cold, you one-floor-elevator-taker-uppers drive me insane.
You can tell who is on your side in the elevator, too. If someone enters on the first floor and presses two, the second that criminal gets out, there usually is a collective sigh from whoever has more floors to go.
Maybe it’s the pace I live my life that has made me a little irritated, but the next kind of elevator patron drives me nuts: the people who just stand when the doors open. Not a care in the world, let’s hang out. Dance party in the elevator, right now.
The doors open and a staring contest begins. I want to start blinking furiously so they’ll just realize they won, now they can leave.
Sometimes if you’re riding the elevator, completely willing to get out of the way, people begin loading in when you’re still not out. One time the doors even closed and I was taken for my hell ride all over again.
On certain nights in the student center there are tons of meetings with dozens of people attending. Hordes of girls crowd into the tiny space, drowning me with their perfume and conversations about what they ate today.
On the other hand, I will take their Chanel No. 5 over other occasions when about 15 people are crammed into the elevator and someone definitely farted. It would be better if you admitted to it than endure those several floors of accusatory eyes and shifted glances.
The thing is, etiquette guru Emily Post did not plan for society to have such trouble with elevators. She doesn’t cover the topic.
While usually social creatures, many people tense up in the elevator. We don’t look each other in the eye, mostly looking at the numbers and seeing when we’ll reach our destination. I’m guilty of it, too. There have been times when I rode the elevator next to a vice president of the Student Government Association and not realized; I’m not trying to be rude by not saying “hello,” I’m just in my own world, or box, riding to the office.
Our behavior inside is a test of how we act outside the elevator. If you walk in and see someone standing in the back, looking preoccupied, arms crossed — that means they’re not the most extroverted person and they’d like to keep to themselves. If the person seems rushed, tapping his foot, rolling his eyes or does the “oops I see you running for the elevator, let me try to stop the doors, ohhhh no — too late” fake out — they most likely are in a rush (or an editor with The Northeastern News). If the person is chatting loudly, taking forever to leave the elevator or holds the elevator door open while a friend down the hall gathers his things as slowly as he can — he most likely just sucks.
– Lauren Rouleau is a senior journalism major and a member of The News staff.
