My building (it’s mine I own it).
Elevator number 12.
Me and a nice-looking business Joe get on the elevator.
Me: Looking hot and holding my latte under my nose so that perhaps the smell alone will give me a little perk. I hit my button to get to my floor in the upper twenties.
Him: Attractive in a Harrison Ford kind of way, tall, 50-ish, normal, wearing a suit and holding a briefcase. Smiles at me and pushes for floor 30.
The doors begin to close and suddenly: Mr. Business Joe ACTIVATE!
He hurriedly jabs his finger toward the two buttons that say, “Close Door” and “Open Door.”
I thought he must need to get out of the elevator, but color me surprised when he finds and presses the “Close Door” button.
“PittGirl,” I said to myself, “that was curious. The door was already closing.”
We begin our ascent. 5th, 10th, 20th. On the 21st floor we stop and the doors open. A lady gets in and pushes the button for 22.
Mr. Business Joe ACTIVATE!
He’s got his finger out again and looking like a harried elevator man who has been told if he doesn’t start performing better he can kiss his job goodbye, he starts hunting for that “Close Door” button. Almost accidentally pushing the “Open Door” button, he finds the right button and smacks it just as the doors start to close.
“PittGirl,” I said to myself, “that was BEYOND curious.”
One floor up. The doors open again and the lady exits the elevator.
Mr. Business Joe . . . you get the picture.
He’s hunting. He can’t seem to remember which was the open button and which was the close button that he just pressed not 15 seconds ago. His finger hovers over each key rapidly going back and forth. He bangs the “Close Door” button just as the doors come to a close.
“PittGirl,” I said to myself, “this guy is a freak. Get off of the elevator!”
So, did I witness a touch of OCD or just a really nutty Burgher who believes that elevators still need to be told when to close their doors?