Another year is underway. Another month is passing that reminds us each and every day that the job we have is not the job we want. When did we roll over and submit to being trampled by the big corporations who inundate us with a false sense of loyalty? Is there time to make a plan to change your career when you are so utterly exhausted at the end of each day that the mere thought of job hunting seems more painful than a good, old-fashioned hydorchloric acid enema? Every morning, getting ready for a job like this feels like Groundhog’s Day meets Saw sprinkled with a little bit of Schindler’s List. And then every morning there are a few things I dread. No, this is not going to be another diatribe about my constant woes and struggles with public transportation. No, no. You have all read my tales of sorrow about dealing with putrid smells and toxic buffoons. I am going to tackle different monsters today. They are the hidden beasts disguised as helpful enhancements to the modern man: escalators and elevators.
I need to preface everything below with this one fact: we are discouraged and downright forbidden to use stairs at work. They want us to be fat, sloth-like, lazy pieces of corporate shit by forcing us to use escalators and elevators. Stairs are only to be used in case of an emergency. Bitch, my cholesterol needs improving and my weight needs to simmer down. Let me use the stairs!!
To truly understand my precarious situation, I must also give you a layout of my post-train commute and how I reach my desk. After what feels like eternity on the train from hell, I arrive at the nearest station to my company’s buildings. I must then ascend the escalator that, if I were to be patient enough to just stand there like a mindless lemming lacking ambition, would take over TWO MINUTES to get me to the top. It is truly a long, steep escalator. My FitBit thanks me for walking up. Thankfully, people are respectful at this escalator and those who wish to ride in stress-free peace stand to the right and those who actually want to spend their lives LIVING can walk along the left side in about 30 seconds. To those people who choose to stand, you are wasting over 17 hours of your LIFE each year on that damn escalator. 2 minutes up + 2 minutes down = 4 minutes a day. 4 minutes a day * 5 days = 20 minutes a week. 20 minutes a week * 52 weeks = 1040 minutes. 1040 minutes = 17.33 hours. KILL. ME.
After I get to the top, I have some meandering through food courts and hotels until I have to make my next choice. Do I take the elevators that only go up 1 floor or do I walk around and take the escalator that goes up 1 floor? I will be damned to take an elevator for 1 floor, just to be stuck with a bunch of stinky, tired ass sardines too lazy to go STAND on the escalator around the corner.
So I make my choice and venture towards what has become the most excruciating escalator of my life. Granted, I am already peeved when I get there because it is behind a set of 2 doors that open by both pulling and pushing them. Don’t the building designers know that is TOO many options for most people when it comes to opening a door? Would you not think that the natural way to open the door is to walk and push through in one action? How fluid that would be. But, no. People walk to the door, stop abruptly causing you to almost slam into them and burn them with your hot coffee, grab the door handle, and step back as they pull it open. WHAT?? Did you eat asbestos with your fiber cereal this morning? Did you stir in paint chips with your Stevia and coffee? Die. Bye.
“I am almost there,” I tell myself. I give myself a quick pep talk that I can make it up the escalator that takes about 5 seconds to ascend if I walk. But very rarely do I get the luxury to walk up. Instead it seems anything and everything is taking place on the ride to the top: people are playing Red Rover, slow dancing side by side, re-enacting a mosh pit from a concert, roasting marshmallows around a campfire and singing “Kumbaya,” you name it. The point is: MOVE. THE. FUCK. OVER. Step aside. Because for every person that I have to stand behind, my chance of inhaling a lot of strangers’ farts increases. And I don’t want that. Do you want that? Who wants that? No one really wants that. And every step I am unable to take as part of my goal to be more physically active is 1 step closer to obesity, heart disease, and diabetes. The people who block the path to my freedom are actually killing me. Bastards.
I am finally to the top and if I look straight ahead I can see the elevator that would have brought me to the same place. I see the people emerge from what looks like the most suffocating, douche-infested hell I can imagine. I now have one last choice to make. Do I go to the set of four elevators to my left? Or do I go to the set of four elevators to my right? We only have 6 floors in this particular building, but the choosing the wrong elevator bay can easily add 3 hours until I reach my desk.
I usually go left because less people work on that side and once we reach my floor I can just walk around to the side I need. But God forbid I choose unwisely. 9 times out of 10 I am in an elevator that stops on every single floor. And of course I am on the 5th floor. Might as well be the 5th Wave of the Alien attack.
And do not even get me started on people who walk up to the elevator where you are waiting and push the CLEARLY bright-orange lit up button. Gurl, you look like a Pablo Picasso painting and smell like a shit-covered coffee bean. You can’t even get a man to come when you call, so what makes you think a second push of the elevator button will make it come any faster than when I pushed it already? Bye.
In an elevator that has faux-Door Open and Close buttons, I can tell you that it is pure hell. I am 100% convinced that I could reach the 5th floor via the stairwells before an elevator could that has to stop at every floor. So you better believe I am like a teething hyena in heat when I see people try to stop the elevator from closing by sticking their hands in. I will spit, kick, bite, and judo chop that shit to close the doors faster.
Keep in mind that you probably read this faster than the first escalator I mentioned that I have to take every morning from the train station.