Elevated
Lifts can be awkward cant they? For what probably seems like longer, but which really only turns out to be at maximum, a minute, we are in this tiny capsule, praying for release. Oh no, it’s not the claustrophobic feeling of the metal structure itself. Nor is it the feeling of motion sickness. No the real problem is your fellow occupants. That horrible session of small talk and nodding...courteous side steps and buttons pressed, doors held, smiles and thank you!
“Ah thanks...” - the Polite one - Door held open
“Oops...sorry”....’the Sneaker in’ before the door closes.
“The Snooty ignorant one” – just looks up and down and says nothing.
“The Shifter” – moves from side to side to allow people in.
‘The Smartphoner’ – Nothing else in the lift matters only his phone. Whatever is going on, even if twenty people bundled into the lift naked, the smartphoner will stay looking at their device rather than engage in any form of human interaction.
‘The Nod’ – the all seeing taking everything in person. You know the one. The one that stands at the back, looks you up and down and doesn’t have to avoid it because he has nowhere else to look anyway. He holds the power.
I have reason to enter a lift every day and as we are creatures of habit it often turns out that the same people tend to be in the same lift at the same time daily. On occasion, I may even be the sneaker in.
Apologies offered, side step taken, bag held tighter for security and comforting.
Just as the door closes someone comes running....
“Oops Sorry...thanks!” Polite smile
Now he is in. But is ‘the Newbie’.....He feels he has to make conversation.
“Cool out there...” rubs his hands.
Nobody answers. The Smartphoner scrolls. ‘The Nod’ may acknowledge him, the all seeing, all knowing at the back. He has granted permission for the minnow to speak! The Shifter doesn’t know what to do, so shifts....doesn’t even have to – there is plenty of room.
Then the voyage starts. But unlike movies and Television programmes, there is no music just a deafening silence. You wait for the voice or the ‘bing’ that announces the next floor. A momentary relief to break the deadlock.
The Shifter shifts, the Newbie leaves....the Nod, well he nods as if to acknowledge everything has passed off as it should and we can continue on to the next floor.
Anyhow, on my journey each day this guy gets into my lift. In a woolly hat. He doesn’t have a smartphone, he gets in late and turns and faces the door. He doesn’t move so he is not the shifter, he doesn’t head to the back. He will never be the Nod. He just gets in turns and faces the door.
It gets awkward around floor four though. The smartphoner gets out with the shifter. The shifter just happy not to have to be faced with the turmoil anymore and goes running. The smartphoner bumps into people on his way out, never lifting his eyes. The guy in the hat though just stares out and I am faced with the back of his head. A grey sheep asleep in front of my eyes. I know the nod is behind me but as if some kind of mental battle has been won, even he breaks down like a child who loses at a staring game. The nod gets out at floor seven. Yes he nods on his way. A signal of defeat. Then there is just me and the woolly hat guy. He says nothing. Just stares. It is disconcerting, a war of nerves. On the next floor he gets out and walks away. I don’t get to see his face.
Well this has happened for an awful lot of mornings and the mental torture is killing me so one morning, I become the ‘small talker’ – “Cold out there.” It’s directed at the back of his head.
But nothing! Not a grunt, not a movement, not a Matrix slow motion style turn where he turns to kill me. No, just a silence, the torture is worse. The doors open and he steps out.
This ignorance is too much for me and I stand defeated. The lone occupant, head hanging all the way to the eight floor. Why? I ask. Why?
My answer comes when the weather gets better. The woolly hat guy gets in. He has no hat on though. Just earphones. Earphones that were tucked under his hat for the last four months. More than likely the reason he has never answered me I think. I feel silly. The small talker gets in.
“Great day”.
I look at him and say nothing. I like being the snooty ignorant one.
Lifts can be awkward cant they? For what probably seems like longer, but which really only turns out to be at maximum, a minute, we are in this tiny capsule, praying for release. Oh no, it’s not the claustrophobic feeling of the metal structure itself. Nor is it the feeling of motion sickness. No the real problem is your fellow occupants. That horrible session of small talk and nodding...courteous side steps and buttons pressed, doors held, smiles and thank you!
“Ah thanks...” - the Polite one - Door held open
“Oops...sorry”....’the Sneaker in’ before the door closes.
“The Snooty ignorant one” – just looks up and down and says nothing.
“The Shifter” – moves from side to side to allow people in.
‘The Smartphoner’ – Nothing else in the lift matters only his phone. Whatever is going on, even if twenty people bundled into the lift naked, the smartphoner will stay looking at their device rather than engage in any form of human interaction.
‘The Nod’ – the all seeing taking everything in person. You know the one. The one that stands at the back, looks you up and down and doesn’t have to avoid it because he has nowhere else to look anyway. He holds the power.
I have reason to enter a lift every day and as we are creatures of habit it often turns out that the same people tend to be in the same lift at the same time daily. On occasion, I may even be the sneaker in.
Apologies offered, side step taken, bag held tighter for security and comforting.
Just as the door closes someone comes running....
“Oops Sorry...thanks!” Polite smile
Now he is in. But is ‘the Newbie’.....He feels he has to make conversation.
“Cool out there...” rubs his hands.
Nobody answers. The Smartphoner scrolls. ‘The Nod’ may acknowledge him, the all seeing, all knowing at the back. He has granted permission for the minnow to speak! The Shifter doesn’t know what to do, so shifts....doesn’t even have to – there is plenty of room.
Then the voyage starts. But unlike movies and Television programmes, there is no music just a deafening silence. You wait for the voice or the ‘bing’ that announces the next floor. A momentary relief to break the deadlock.
The Shifter shifts, the Newbie leaves....the Nod, well he nods as if to acknowledge everything has passed off as it should and we can continue on to the next floor.
Anyhow, on my journey each day this guy gets into my lift. In a woolly hat. He doesn’t have a smartphone, he gets in late and turns and faces the door. He doesn’t move so he is not the shifter, he doesn’t head to the back. He will never be the Nod. He just gets in turns and faces the door.
It gets awkward around floor four though. The smartphoner gets out with the shifter. The shifter just happy not to have to be faced with the turmoil anymore and goes running. The smartphoner bumps into people on his way out, never lifting his eyes. The guy in the hat though just stares out and I am faced with the back of his head. A grey sheep asleep in front of my eyes. I know the nod is behind me but as if some kind of mental battle has been won, even he breaks down like a child who loses at a staring game. The nod gets out at floor seven. Yes he nods on his way. A signal of defeat. Then there is just me and the woolly hat guy. He says nothing. Just stares. It is disconcerting, a war of nerves. On the next floor he gets out and walks away. I don’t get to see his face.
Well this has happened for an awful lot of mornings and the mental torture is killing me so one morning, I become the ‘small talker’ – “Cold out there.” It’s directed at the back of his head.
But nothing! Not a grunt, not a movement, not a Matrix slow motion style turn where he turns to kill me. No, just a silence, the torture is worse. The doors open and he steps out.
This ignorance is too much for me and I stand defeated. The lone occupant, head hanging all the way to the eight floor. Why? I ask. Why?
My answer comes when the weather gets better. The woolly hat guy gets in. He has no hat on though. Just earphones. Earphones that were tucked under his hat for the last four months. More than likely the reason he has never answered me I think. I feel silly. The small talker gets in.
“Great day”.
I look at him and say nothing. I like being the snooty ignorant one.