To the obviously healthy and very capable gentleman who happens to live in my building:
- If I can manage to hold the door open for you, while carrying 4 very heavy grocery bags, I expect you to put a little kick in your step. You were not that far behind. And, like I said, the bags? Not light.
- Also, if I, with the same bags, can manage to hold the elevator door for you, when every part of me wants to jab the “door close” button, as you nonchalantly stroll toward me, then a “thank you” would be nice. Clearly not entirely necessary, but nice. Especially as I press the button for you. You must be exhausted from carrying…practically nothing.
- And, if, at this point, I can restrain myself from not swinging one of my grocery bags at you, when we reach your floor you should really exit immediately. I’m fine with your “have a good night,” but why the extra 10 second linger in the elevator? Are you trying to shame me into being nice(er) after you saw me sigh and shake my head?
Guess what? It won’t work. And all I want to do is get to my room and watch Real World. (Side note: Wtf is wrong with Andrew?)
So look, I’m sorry you caught me on a cranky day, but really, let’s try to move a little faster than a snail’s pace next time. Or maybe I just won’t hold the door anymore.
That works, too.