Elevator Etiquette and the EPD

The last few months have placed me at the mercy of very busy elevators at Boston Hospitals. This has proved to be an experience akin to eating glass, or allowing a vicious canine to slowly tear an appendage from my conscious and unwilling body. Part of the torture is the sheer amount of time spent waiting for the elevator to arrive, especially when facing more than 6 sets of double doors leading into the cars. One would think with that many elevators patrons would be zinging in and out like ping pong balls. Instead, it’s like the pace is set by turtles riding on snails’ backs. 

Regardless of how quickly a person can move into and out of the sluggish cars, some basic rules of etiquette must be observed! If the budget were unlimited and I were the lawmaker, I would even appoint “Elevator Police,” to enforce the rules. The first, and most blatantly disregarded courtesy of elevator etiquette is STANDING IN FRONT OF THE DOORS AS THEY OPEN SO YOU CAN BOARD THE ELEVATOR. Hello, Captain Obvious? Ever consider that people might need to get OFF the elevator, and they can’t do that if you’re blocking the only exit with your impatient body mass? Doesn’t it make more sense to give them a few precious seconds to egress, thereby making more room for your impetuous frame? Press Button. Stand near button just pressed. Watch passengers depart. Board elevator. All too easy. 

If elevators had ears they would probably jam a traction cable into their tympanic membrane. The elevator police would definitely be working overtime writing out tickets for inappropriate conversations. An elevator ride usually lasts anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes. During that minuscule expanse of time, please refrain from discussing the intricacies of your surgeries, bowel movements, or elderly mothers’ dental insufficiencies. Save the complaints about your mate’s sexual inadequacies for a nice conversation from the privacy of home. Standing in the corner attempting to chat discreetly about your drunken debauchery doesn’t cut it, either. It’s an ELEVATOR. We can hear you, no matter where you stand. 

Policing the elevator would be a full-time job. Ticket writing alone would account for a large portion of duties. Sizable fines would be solicited for discharging bodily functions in the elevator.  The amount of funds collected would be directly proportional to the vileness of the body function expelled into the confined elevator space. Egg Salad Burp? $100 fine. Blowing your sinus infection into a tissue then looking at the nasty green mucous? $200 fine. Passing the undigested gassy remnants of a black bean and cabbage lunch from your most distal hole into the only oxygenated air source elevator patrons have to breathe? $400 fine, at MINIMUM. Keep your bodily ejections contained until you’re off the elevator, even if it means severe cheek-squeezing and abdominal cramps!

The elevator officers will also be writing tickets for moving violations. If you called the elevator at the 3rd floor and plan on riding to the 19th, stand at the back of the elevator. If you called it at the 1st and need to get to the 2nd, take the stairs. If you have a twin stroller with two drooling infants crammed into it and the elevator is already 3/4 full, wait for the next one. When you board the elevator, if it’s not possible to reach the number buttons, politely ask the elevator rider closest to the buttons to push “5.” And by Cracky, if you are the human responsible for reproducing the pediatric cretin who just lit up every floor with their curious, stubby little finger do NOT expect the rest of the elevator population to think it’s cute or endearing in any way. Don’t teach your offspring to push buttons by pushing ours. Elevator PD, arrest them! 

The elevator is not the place for racing, discussing, exposing, or expelling. It’s a bad time to attempt to fit a round body through a square hole. It’s not the environment for flirty or casual conversation. It’s not a playground, dumping ground, or breeding ground. It’s not a cafeteria, kitchen, or dining room table. Don’t use it as a classroom, chatroom, or bathroom. Keep your hands in, your eyes down, and your holes closed. The EPD may be patrolling an elevator near you!

Anyone interested in applying to the EPD (Elevator Police Department), send applications to: nichole@paramediccooks.com :)