Thursday, 8 March 2012
Uncharitable but Healthier
One of the hard things in life is recognizing one's own faults so it is with a sense of shame that I report a nasty side of my character. It's about waiting for a lift. When the doors open, I step back politely to let people get out: I don't mind that - but once I am in and have pressed the button for my desired floor... I want to get there fast. Always. As if it were a matter of life and death (which it never is). Just as the doors are closing someone always comes running and either they catch the door with their hand or ram their foot in it. Manners obliges me to press the Open Button to let them get in, which I do through gritted teeth and a false smile. If we are extremely lucky that will be the end of it, but no, more often than not more and more shoppers arrive and we only get to depart when the lift is suffocatingly full. So now I take the stairs and life is much better. Of course, I have many times run for the lift myself, squeezing in with abject, apologetic murmurings, which come to think is what others do too. So maybe everyone feels the way I do? One good thing has come of it: I now do a lot of running up and down stairs.