Elevator Ups and Downs

“13, please”, I answered. The older man gave a nod, and pressed the unlit floor number.

He slowly turned his back to me.

Ah, elevator silence; a cherished ritual.

I looked down at my toes. Beige flats; pretty boring, but comfortable and versatile. It’s New York, a girl has to budget.

Floor 7...The elevator stopped, and three women walked in, aged twenty-something to thirty-something.

“Can you believe Brad looked at me that way!”

“Oh my God, he’s so into you! He is!”, one of them said, giddily, but unconvincing.

“Well I can’t be sure, but I’ll tell you what; I’m going to find him in the break room again and see if he gives me that look again”

I rolled my eyes. Their backs were towards me, but I’d like to think I would’ve done it regardless.

They huddled around the twenty-something’s phone, gleefully absorbing every picture and video they found on Instagram.

Poor Brad, I thought, Did he really look at you that way, or are you reading into things because you’re single, and going on 40. I hope he’s not already married.

I didn’t see a wedding band on her, girls notice this stuff. Not sure about Brad.

Wait, I’m 29 and not married. 29 is still young right?

Floor 8...9...10

I have a myriad of morning meetings, but my thoughts float around that dreaded 8am status meeting. Nothing is enough, and if you finished your work, you should’ve started on the next project by now. And if there is no next project, you should’ve asked what else you can do to help. Typical design agency things. All about those billable hours, right?

You will not be run over; you will convey your thoughts with confidence and clarity. You will work hard, but not be overworked. Saying No is Okay.

I’m trying to convince myself.

Motivational stuff, it’s supposed to seep into your subconscious, or something. I tell myself it works, maybe that’s why it works?

Floor 11...12…

Suddenly, the elevator stopped with an abrupt jerk. The lights turned off, and flickered back on. Did the power just go out? Why did we stop?

“Ah!”, “Damnit!”, one of the clumsy ladies in the group exclaimed.

I’m pretty sure the 20-something dropped her coffee. I take a step back to brace the wall with my arm. I look down. Yep, good move stepping back; a river of cream and sugar starts to puddle.

“Well, there we go”, the older man calmly said.

The women were in a bit of a huff. Their thumbs racing to inform their friends of their climactic circumstance. None of us have cell service, so I doubt their SOS messages will go out.

“Is everyone okay?”, he asked. The concerned dad of the group.

Yes, Dad, I almost replied. His question was sincere, but it still came to mind.

“I think so”, one of the girls responded. 

The older man pressed the emergency call button. After three loud rings a man answered, in a husky voice.

“Hello?”

“Hello. We’re in the elevator, and well, it just stopped.”

“Ah, yes, that sounds like a problem. The building is running on generators at the moment; only necessary services are operational. The elevator should be on that power source, but if it’s not moving, somethings not working right. We’ll send someone to take a look” 

“Got it; how long does this usually take?”.

“On a good day, an hour or two.”

“Got it, well, we’ll hold tight”. Click.

Well, this was unfortunate. At least we had some dim lighting in the elevator. Backup lights I assume.

 “Ha, now this is the stuff you see in movies. Kind of odd for it to actually happen”, he said. His hand running through his hair.

“And how about you”, he said looking at me.

I was unconcerned; actually I was concerned, but more about my meetings. It was 7:50am, and being MIA for two hours gave me anxiety.

“I’m good, I’m good. Have to text my boss real quick, or else he’ll have a fit.”, I said.

“Well with the power going out, and you being stuck in an elevator one floor away, that should be a fair enough reason, eh?”

“Ha, yea, well - this is the guy who got pissed because my car broke down and I was late to a meeting. He said that I should’ve planned better!”, I shrugged my shoulders. “I’ve been with this design agency for the past several years; there’s ups and downs”

“One of those bosses, eh? I’ve been there, I may have actually been like that too”, he chuckled. “I was a Studio Manager off 5th avenue back in the day. Moors and Hammer Design. Fun times. But busy times. Having a family, trying to run a studio. Well, you know how it goes. I wish you the best of luck on that. If they’ve kept you that long they must like you!”

“Thanks”, I said.

An ever so slight camaraderie formed between us, like you’d expect when two decent civilians meet and share the same profession. Hi, I do this. Oh, so do I. Ah, very fine. Very fine indeed. At least, that’s how I imagine a conversation like that going at a bar. In fact, that’s probably half of bar conversations.

A half-hour passed. I couldn’t send that text message due to no service.

I must say that I’m pleased that everyone in the elevator smells so nicely. The warm, cinnamon scent of the older gentlemen. The flowery notes of the ladies. I could’ve been paired with a less savory crew.

Another 15 minutes passed.

The older fellow’s name is Ron, and he’s a board member and advisor of a larger design firm in the building. He retired 5 years ago, but couldn’t keep away.

One of the girls' names is Clara, and has two Pomeranians. She’s a secretary for a financial firm on the 25th floor. I’m not sure of the names on the other two, but one of them is a cat person, and the other’s apartment complex won’t allow animals.

Clara swipes her phone bringing up more dog pictures.

“And this is my boyfriend’s dog.”, Clara says, holding the phone high up.

“Aww, very cute.”, I say.”

Actually, I don’t care. And I’ve seen better looking Terriers.

Another 45 minutes pass.

Ron’s asking me some questions about work, what projects I’m working on, etc. I get asked things like this from time to time to fill in conversational lulls, but his questions are more nuanced and interesting. I enjoy it.

I’m relaying some abstract details about my latest project when suddenly the elevator lights flicker on and off, and the elevator shifts upward.

“Heyyyy!”, exclaimed Ron, accompanied with an amiable smile and a few small claps of his hands.

Cheerful acknowledgements are exchanged as an obligatory conclusion to this unforeseen endeavor. The day as normal could now resume, for better or worse.

Floor 13...bing!

That’s my stop.

I stepped out and turned around to bid a farewell, followed by a hesitant bow. I felt like the unique situation required a unique departure.

“Hey, do you have one sec”, Ron says, stepping out onto my floor. He held the door open with his arm, signaling to the ladies that he’d only be a minute.

He looked at me with sincere eyes; I knew he was going to give me some advice.

“I just wanted to say, that your detail, and the way you described things. It’s very impressive.”

“Thank you”, I immediately said. I knew he was going to say more, but I’m bad at taking compliments.

He gave me a relaxed look. “The thing is, well, the only thing I regret in my career was staying somewhere too long where I wasn’t respected. If you’re interested, based on your experience, I believe you’d be a good candidate for the Studio Manager position open at our firm. Think about it.”

He handed me his business card. I took it and thanked him again, more sincerely this time. The card was glossy and well done; it’s what I’d expect for a business card from a design agency.

I put the card in my purse. The job was worthy of investigation, in fact, I could see myself in that role now. I’m kind of doing that already now, except without the pay raise.

It’s true that good things come to those who wait!