Yes, I’m British and we say lift. For any persnickety Americans or wherever else-ians, I’m talking about elevators.
This isn’t so much an investigation as it is me wondering why traveling in lifts is more complicated than it needs to be.
The most irritating part is people not letting those inside the lift get out before they shove their way in.
And then they have the nerve to look at you like you’ve gotten in their way. Are they stupid?
What’s wrong with WAITING three seconds to see if anyone is in the damn thing. This isn’t Sabrina the Teenage Witch. No one is about to cast a magic spell that will take the lift away from you. It’s not going anywhere. Why are you walking into me? I now hang back before I get off because I’m tired of people knocking into me.
(On a side note people who do this on trains wind me up. Why do I have to push past you to get off the train? Or why are you pushing past me? It’s always someone that smells funky doing it as well. Okay, fine, so that might be my imagination but still. Don’t touch me. Thank you.)
Second irritating thing being in a lift with strangers. Well, I suppose it can’t be helped but it would be nice if people gaged my mood. Sometimes I don’t feel like making awkward small talk. On the other hand, you get those people who STARE like you have six heads and you’re compelled to start talking lest you press the emergency button and demand that someone get you out of there.
Third thing is loud conversations, both the ones I am forced to witness and participate in. I don’t need you spreading my or your own business across the lift, thanks. I am just trying to get from A to B in near silence. Thank you.
Four, funky smells. Cigarette smoke. Wafting perfume. Fart. Can’t you people just take the damn stairs? Or air yourself out, damn.
To conclude: people continue to be the worst.