Minor obsessions that will make you think I am a weirdo

My friend recently posted on her blog about the numerous forms of social dickery out there. I agreed with every single one, especially the one about people occupying the aisle seat of the bus (or train, in my case) when the seat next to them remains free of a commuter's backside. On many occasions, I have observed people standing in the aisles whilst this abominable conduct is being perpetrated. These people are clearly too polite for their own good to ask that the seat be yielded up to them - I guess they must be worried about the repercussions if Norma has to interrupt her reading of That's Life magazine, or Scotty has to divert his attention away from his portable DVD player, in order to be slightly inconvenienced for, oh, about 30 seconds. I outraged at this practice in particular when, recently, I was clearly less able-bodied than most people after a shoulder injury. You'd think a big fat blue sling would be enough of a visual cue to even the most glassy-eyed of commuters, yet still I had to ask people "if they minded" if I usurped their spot on the blue vinyl, even after throwing a few over-egged grimaces of pain their way for theatrical effect. Consequently, I have sometimes waged an anti-anti-social behaviour crusade against my fellow commuters, where I have been known to deliberately ask a person sitting in the aisle seat to move over or let me in, even if there might be a more accesible seat where a more considerate fellow citizen has taken the window seat. It's sometimes to the detriment of my own comfort but hey, I'm taking this one on the chin - I'm hoping to re-grease the wheels of mutual cooperation and politeness. Ok, yes, I admit it - I am going to be a painful senior citizen. Someone please lock me up once I turn 65.

Anyway, that was meant to just be an intro to my post which clearly turned into a diseased rant. My intended post is on a form of social dickery and an embarassing moment that recently occurred. For all parties involved, there was probably an element of karma at play.

I think this particular form of anti-social behaviour is peculiar to the corporate world, or at least to very tall buildings. In this ridiculous "time is money" world, no-one likes to wait for a lift and I too have sometimes internally sighed as yet another person gets in and we're stopping all stations up to my floor (the third-last). Equally, I have endangered life and limb and various shopping parcels by flinging them across the threshold of rapidly closing lift doors in order to hitch that ride. But my pet peeve is people that stare directly through you from the smug confines of the lift as you quicken your pace to it, knowing full well that you could probably make it if they were considerate enough to hold the door open. But no, clutching their vials of caffeine and overpriced friands, they can't even manage a feigned attempt to press the hold button, nor even an "oops I'm sorry I didn't see you there and now in my flustered panic of trying to do the right thing I've gone and pressed the wrong button byeeee".

On this particular afternoon, requiring an afternoon pick-me-up in the form of a flat white, I wandered downstairs to the café in my building. Ennui-fighting hot beverage in hand a few minutes later, I returned to the lift lobby and observed an open lift. The light was still on! And I didn't have to press the button and wait! Everything was coming up Milhous…..except for the middle-aged suit I then noticed in the lift displaying an air of arrogant nonchalance. I hasten myself towards the lift and he stares. It's a 5 second stand off. He has the power of the buttons at his fingers. I have the coffee that I do not wish to spill on my white shirt if I break into anything faster than a high-heel shuffle. He is impassive and does not move. The light goes off and the doors whoosh together and I let out a disgusted "oh, you asshooo-". The doors swing open halfway through my epithet, and I nearly die of shame. I can't not catch the lift so I get in and the ride up feels a tad awkward. He gets off an a floor that doesn't belong to the company I work for. Phew.

Maybe this guy had a change of heart. Or maybe I am too quick to judge people sometimes. Perhaps the rise of the machines isn't just a bad Michael Bay movie and they really do have minds of their own and this lift took pity on me. In which case I really really hope that one day I get in that lift and it senses how deeply personally unsatisfying my job can be at times and rockets out the top of the building, like in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and I never have to go back to work again.

Except then I wouldn't have any seat-hogging commuters to undermine.