Neil Hudson: Things not to do in a lift

As far as I know, there are no lifts on the Serengeti. PIC:  Kelvin Zhang/Guzelian
As far as I know, there are no lifts on the Serengeti. PIC: Kelvin Zhang/Guzelian
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Able bodied people who use lifts to go up or down one floor should be taken outside and (no, not shot)forced to run around the nearest block twice as punishment.

I cannot count the number of times I’ve walked into a lift to go up or down five floors (which in my book is entirely acceptable), only for some slacker with ‘mobile phone neck’ to walk in after me and push the button for the next floor up or down. It infuriates me.

It’s a symptom of how lazy we have become as a species (in places which are rich enough to have lifts, of course).

So, the other day, I walked into said lift at the ground floor level and pushed the number 5 button. In walked a young girl, craning her neck toward a mobile device which was almost as big as she was. She pushed to go up one floor.

I scowled.

Being over 40, this is one of the things I do quite a lot. In fact, being male, it’s one of the two things I am now very good at, the other one being growing a beard, by which I mean a proper unkempt shaggy chin rug with lots of grey and white in (not like those neatly trimmed hipster beards of uniform brown, which look like they came from a fancy dress shop and are glued on).

So, there I am scowling at her. Meanwhile, the lift goes down one floor.

This prompts crane-neck-slacker-girl to frantically push the button for it to go back up. I scowl harder. The lift ignores her button pushing and opens its doors in that leisurely manner lifts have.

In walks an older woman, possibly a bit older than me. She pushes the button to go back up to the floor from which both I and crane-neck-girl alighted.

So, I scowl at her too, because she really should know better, especially as I notice she is wearing a nurse’s uniform. However, my scowling goes completely unnoticed and the lift ascends and we’re back at the ground floor.

Crane-neck-girl pushes the buttons. By this time, I imagine even Stephen Hawking could have negotiated the stairs faster. The lift, meanwhile, is slowly closing its doors but just as they’re about to shut, another slacker, this time a male of the species, sticks his lazy idiot hand in the gap, forcing them open. I sigh and scowl at the same time. Everyone waits while the lift opens its doors. Long pause. Then very carefully closes them. Finally, finally, we’re off. Up one floor, where both slackers thankfully disembark. Young people. Tut. Slightly older people. Tut, tut.

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