Good morning, chickens.
Please let me tell you something that happened to me yesterday.
You know how I’m a fan of the over.share.
Yesterday, I was leaving the office later than usual, and I grabbed a long overdue expense report to drop off on the floor below me.
Yes, we have to take elevators to every floor, even if it’s only one down.
I stepped into the elevator and automatically pressed 1.
It’s a reflex after a long day. I wanted out of there.
When I realized I had sped past my intended floor, I panicked and hit all the buttons.
I recognize that this is an amateur move.
The elevator finally came to a halt at 15, which is where the MTV offices in Chicago reside.
The MTV offices are much cooler than the association management offices, in case you were wondering.
I bet you were not.
When I got off the elevator, I figured I’d just ride back upstairs and deposit my paperwork.
Except, upon further inspection, I couldn’t locate any elevator buttons.
I canvassed the area, but seemed to be coming up empty.
Maybe they’re somehow motion sensitive, I thought, because I am a crazy person.
I tried walking the perimeter.
I wondered if I could call someone from my office to come rescue me from the 15th floor.
A great plan, if I ever remembered anyone’s phone number, and if it wasn’t past the hour where most people had already headed home.
I was just resigning myself to a night in the elevator bank (they probably don’t even have a wireless signal was an actual thought that I had), when a light bulb went off.
Maybe CJ would have someone’s number.
I called her, but unfortunately, all I got was voice mail.
Back to contemplating a life in the elevator bank.
It might even make a good Lifetime movie.
After probably a total of ten to fifteen minutes, an actual employee of MTV came through the doors of her lobby and eyed me suspiciously.
I tried to look cool, like maybe I worked there.
I wasn’t fooling anyone.
Since I perceived that the jig was up, I nonchalantly asked her how one called an elevator on this floor.
She looked at me like I was crazy, and reached behind a trendy fixture to where the buttons were located.
In the right light, they might even be described as “not hidden”.
But I’m not willing to draw that conclusion without a second look.
And I’m never stopping at 15 again.
So I guess it will stay a mystery the rest of my days.
Take it easy out there chicks.