Chronicles of New York

Two heavy metal doors slide open to expose yet another nondescript office elevator bank. Jack the New Building Manager steps in to the freshly renovated elevator car holding rolled-up blue prints. The four already-present passengers reflexively shuffle a few inches to give him room. One of them, Mark the Guy Who Even Uses His Laptop on the Subway, is holding a laptop open and up to his face. One is named Mary. She’s a Friendly Midwestern Business Woman.

“Hi Mary!” says Jack to the short, eggplant-shaped brunette as he settles himself in the smack, dab center of the available space. The doors close. The elevator continues down.

“Hi there,” Mary answers.

“I’ll be coming by later today. Going to build out your IT space,” he says.

“Oh great,” she says without a hint of sarcasm. The elevator stops at the next floor. Another two people step in. The already present bodies shift to redistribute the personal space. In the move, Jack notices Mary’s plastic water cup. It’s clear with prints of large, yellow and pink Gerber daisies.
“I like your cup. Did you paint it yourself?” he says. The quiet, cornered audience in the elevator studies her cup. Plastic probably $1.99 from Duane Reade’s picnic merchandise.

“No, it’s just a plastic cup,” she says with a tone read by Jack as kind and by the other six passengers as placative.

The elevator stops again. Doors open again. Three more people get in. It’s like chromosomes multiplying inside a nuclear membrane.  “I like the colors. Very summery.”

“Thanks,” she says.

The doors close. Passengers calmly stand uncomfortably close to each other with nothing to do but inspect each other. A woman notices a brown growth on the back of a man’s neck. It’s got two hairs sticking out of it. She holds back gag reflex. The man notices a mysterious balding patch on crest of a woman’s head. He wonders if she’s aware of it. The passengers see each other as pointillistic figures, as millions of little, repulsive pieces.

Well this is true for all passengers except Jack and Mark, the Guy Who Even Uses His Laptop on the Subway. With each additional passenger Mark has been pulling his laptop closer and closer to his face. It’s as if he’s trying to read the fine print on a coffee table book.
Jack is amused. “Are you on the computer in the elevator?”

“I, um,” mumbles Mark.

“That’s dedication. Are you online?” Jack says.

A flicker of something to say popped into Mary’s head and it traveled straight out of her mouth.  “Some people have cell phones. He has a computer!…Actually he’s a big guy. He could use it as a phone.”

Mark, The Guy Who Even Uses His Laptop on the Subway, holds it up to the side of his face. “There’s a microphone right here.” He smiles. Each passenger cracks a smile back at him. Good humor is catchy.

“Yeah, what’s the difference between the phone and the computer? Same thing nowadays,” says Jack. The elevator stops again.

“Oops, we’re on the local,” someone jokes.

“Excuse me, gotta get out,” a Non-Descript Guy in the Back asserts.

“Everybody out!” genially directs Tony the Formerly Quiet Businessman standing in the front as the doors open. Everyone complies and pours out of the doors like kids at a bus stop. And after the Non-Descript Guy in the Back get outs, Tony hollers “And everybody in!”

The doors close.

“Wow, this carpet is nice. Really beautiful carpet they put in here,” Mary announces with sarcasm.

“Yeah it really matches the—What is it? Fake wood grain? Leopard print? On the ceiling,” says Mark.

“Whoever designed this elevator was color blind! And look at the light falling down. Great job,” says the Tony.

Nothing brings people closer faster than the opportunity to share disapproval.

But Jack, the original party starter, doesn’t join in. He holds his breath, curls his toes and bites his bottom lip. The elevator renovation was his job.  He wishes they’d all just shut up.

This entry was posted by Willow on Monday, September 7th, 2009 at 7:14 pm. It is filed under In The Office and has these tags: career, daily life, fiction, life, new york city, office. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.