Like most people, I have a number of pet peeves – all totally reasonable, of course. (For example, “stand right, walk left” is not a difficult concept. Though, the “stand left-ers” are probably the same ones who drive at 45 mph in the left lane, and *that* shouldn’t be hard to grasp either.) Whew, sorry. Where was I? Oh, yes – more likely than not, any witness of one (or more) of these pet peeves will probably result in a wee bit of judgment.
Unlike a lot of people, if I’m judging, you’ll probably know it. My poker face is non-existent.
One of these pet peeves, a fairly common one, is taking the elevator one floor (sometimes even two – depends on my mood). If you’re capable of walking and you’re not carrying five different bags/boxes, and the stairs are right there and easily accessible, then why do you insist on getting in at ground level and slowing down my trek up to the seventh floor?
It’s even worse when I’m coming down from seven and the doors stop at the second floor. Really? You couldn’t walk one flight down? Exercise is a good thing, people. Embrace it.
Last night, I got in the elevator and the other girl pressed the button for the second floor. I could feel myself looking at the button, and then my face shifting, involuntarily, into judge-y mode. Which is probably why she felt the need to explain: “I’m coming from down a floor.”
Next time, take the stairs.