Thankfully using elevators is an uneventful occurrence for those of who travel between floors in large buildings.  When it becomes an eventful occurrence, it can be a huge stress of course and people in general have their guards up while traveling in these necessary conveyances.

            Something interesting happened to me in the elevator today.  It wasn’t traumatic but it stimulated my thinking about elevators in general.   I had just walked into the elevator and joined my fellow floor traveler, a woman.  Suddenly, a hand shot in between the closing door, forcing it open, and middle – aged employee walked in, searched the front and back of the elevator and then asked, “What is the name of this elevator?”  I looked at her, chuckled briefly before I realized that maybe I should be careful because the third floor did house the psyche ward.  I realized she might have escaped the Cuckoo’s nest.  I quickly realized that she knew what floor she was on but simply wanted the name of the elevator.  So, I came up with an answer:  “Her name is Ellen.”  She looked at me with a puzzled look then left the elevator before the door closed.  Whew, what a relief.  But it was obvious to see she was a company woman, and she was simply doing her job, perhaps looking for the label of an elevator number or something.  I think.

            I looked at the other occupant of “Ellen” and we both laughed and went to our appropriate destinations.  Ellen took care of us well with a smooth, uneventful ride. The lady left on the fifth floor and I had five more floors to go, alone, with Ellen.

            I thought it would be nice if Ellen would talk to me, in a nice sultry voice while I rode in her car.  “Good morning sir, thank you for joining me and I hope you’re having a wonderful day.  Where may I take you?

            “Uh, thanks Ellen, I’m going to the tenth floor, thank you.”

            “No problem.  I will be pleased to offer you a fast ride or a slower ride if you’re not in a hurry.  Your choice is my command.”

            “I see, well, I’m not in a hurry, so how bout a slow ride?  What does that include?”

            Ellen’s sweet voice enticed my brain to ask for more.  Ellen hesitated, almost as if she was thinking about her options.  “A slow ride includes a massage and your favorite music, and since you’re alone, that will happen every time you ride, simply by asking.”

            Two hands descended from the ceiling and began massaging my shoulders and back, seventh floor, eight floor, hmmm that felt good, ninth floor, and then I thought: I need to take the elevator a lot more frequently than I had in the past.  So much for exercise.

            We arrived at the tenth floor, the hands returned up into the ceiling and I was disappointed that my time with Ellen ended.

            “Sir, give me your name, and your preferred music and I’ll remember you next time and I’ll take care of you.”

            “My name is Carson and I like smooth jazz.”

            “I’ll remember you Carson, and hopefully you’ll remember and choose me next time you need an elevator.”

            “You can count on it Ellen.”

SRC