I generally hate lazy people. And by lazy people I mean the wankers in my office who like to go out of there way to hit the elevator instead of walking up the one flight of stairs to the second floor where the office is located. I shake my head as I plod up the steps and always hope that the elevator gets stuck.
The only time I use the elevator is on Wednesdays, also known as “the day after I play softball and my knee feels like a prison shank has been shoved up underneath it”. So one day a week I ride the elevator down to the lobby to get my giant half/half (half Diet Coke/half Reg Coke).
As I stepped into the elevator yesterday and the door closed I thought “My God! I’ve gone blind!” Did, I in fact, lose my sight? No, it’s just that the lights inside the elevator is of such high wattage I thought my retinas had been burned out from my head.
Once my vision returned I started to notice that the elevator didn’t look like an elevator. It was more like an interrogation room. Hot, stinging lights, which made me want to confess what I had been doing the night before (answer: laundry & playing softball). This then made me wonder if there is a person who makes a living designing the inside of elevators. And if there parents are proud of them for this job.
And yes, all of this happened in the span of about 14 seconds as the elevator descended one floor. My mind tends to race a bit when fountain drinks are on the line…
The Office Scribe
The only time I use the elevator is on Wednesdays, also known as “the day after I play softball and my knee feels like a prison shank has been shoved up underneath it”. So one day a week I ride the elevator down to the lobby to get my giant half/half (half Diet Coke/half Reg Coke).
As I stepped into the elevator yesterday and the door closed I thought “My God! I’ve gone blind!” Did, I in fact, lose my sight? No, it’s just that the lights inside the elevator is of such high wattage I thought my retinas had been burned out from my head.Once my vision returned I started to notice that the elevator didn’t look like an elevator. It was more like an interrogation room. Hot, stinging lights, which made me want to confess what I had been doing the night before (answer: laundry & playing softball). This then made me wonder if there is a person who makes a living designing the inside of elevators. And if there parents are proud of them for this job.
And yes, all of this happened in the span of about 14 seconds as the elevator descended one floor. My mind tends to race a bit when fountain drinks are on the line…
The Office Scribe
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