Uplifting experiences

My office is on the tenth floor and I have not been inspired enough by the fitness freaks to use the stairs, thanks to the pull of gravity on a lost battle of bulge which rules out walking up, and creaking knees that stoutly warn against attempting the reverse. I have therefore opted for the elevators, though I have to jostle for space with numerous women who get into the one going up even if they had to descend or vice versa, because this gives them the chance to catch up with the world and their aunt on the way. 

There are four elevators in this building and I have named them Speedy, Snappy, Grumpy, and Slow-coach. It stands to reason that I would opt for Speedy every day. Speedy does its job briskly and efficiently and even its doors clang shut with an air of professionalism. Alas, Speedy has proved to be devious by nature and cleverly given my floor a go-by. I would have had to chuck my ego aside and take the lift to and fro the ninth floor, if I wanted to make the nodding acquaintance blossom into a permanent relationship.

Instead, I toyed with the idea of showering my affections on Snappy, because it is the newest kid on the block, visits only the even-numbered floors and does so stylishly, to the tune of a peppy jingle. But being too smart by half, Snappy, has a spat with the lift operator ever so often, and then sulks all day in the basement. If brought back into the fray, Snappy insists on making a whooshing sound up and down, a sort of cheeky ‘My bad’ statement. How can you win allies if you persist in being irreverent is something no one has taught this brat.

That leaves me with the difficult choice between Grumpy and Slow coach. You might, at this point, stop to ponder about the similarity between Snappy and Grumpy, given the fact that their names are so similar. I must hasten to clarify that Grumpy is not given to fits of temper. It is always in a bad mood. For the life of me I have never been able to read the digit on the panel that indicates whether Grumpy is coming or going, and if so, which floor exactly it is gracing with its presence. Perhaps its sensitive nature has been offended due to muttered epithets uttered in its confines, but that can only be expected. If you do happen to favour Grumpy even one day, it thumbs its nose at you and stops at every floor, regardless of whether that floor has any takers. The tune belted out is melancholy and Grumpy draws a deep, shuddering breath every now and then, giving you the sinking feeling that you are about to join the netherworld shortly thereafter.

Ideally, Slow-coach should win the contest hands down with its consistent style of operation. It doesn’t have any moods, being stoic by temperament. The fan is slow and you are not subjected to gusts of cold or hot air that leave you shivering and sweating in the wrong season. There are sonorous announcements at every floor and the doors swing open courteously for every latecomer; our good friend frowns upon all expression of unbecoming haste. But the flip side to this abundance of dignity is that too much gravitas makes Slow-coach a dull boy.

At the end of it, nail-biting decisions stare me in the face every time I face the elevator doors. Whichever lift I opt for, I’m agonized by the thought that I could have been zipping up or down, had I but chosen any of the others as my friend, philosopher and guide. After stepping out finally, I invariably stop, swivel around and stare at their individual panels to find out the status, discover that as usual I had made the wrong choice, and then proceed to wallow in my own misery. The daily stress has become quite nerve-wracking. I think the solution to mastering these ten floors, is to enroll for a crash course in wall climbing with Spiderman. Either the course will take care of the daily problem or the crash will solve the issue for all times.