Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Every morning, in the skyway connecting the parking garage to the office building, a subtle game of positioning and last-minute reversals unfolds. The goal is simple: open the glass double doors without touching the handles. Why? Because it’s a high-traffic conduit, and I’m not particularly interested in collecting the germs du jour as part of my morning commute. Now, before you accuse me of being obsessive-compulsive or germaphobic, allow me to point out that a) I love germs, but mainly my own and b) it’s not like I’m compelled to touch every corner in the vestibule exactly four times. It’s actually three times.

Kidding! Certainly I could wash my hands immediately afterwards, but it just seems like a waste of time. Instead, I’ve been bringing my junk mail to deposit in the office shredding receptacle, which means I tend to have a promotional catalog of some sort that can double as a makeshift glove. And heck, if the latest unbidden issue of Ethan Allen isn’t available, I’ll bite the bullet, grab the door handle, and open it myself. Imagine that.

But there is a better option. If I’m sharing the elevator ride up with somebody, I will let the person out first, with a grand sweep of my hand and an “after you,” and then wait for the glass door to be held open for me. Terrible, I know, but at the same time, it’s a delicious rewiring of chivalry to serve my own dark ends. I have my own code of skyway ethics, too. Generally I will honor the “ladies first” etiquette, gallantly opening the glass door in a double-barreled salvo of courtesy. That said, if anybody fails to acknowledge my initial largesse in the elevator, man or woman, I sure as hell ain’t playing attendant and doorman.

There’s a lightning storm raging outside right now, and given the recent rash of tornados and inclement weather, it may be time to sign off. This will have to be your shocking ending, I suppose. Tonight’s post is more a preface to what we’ll discuss on Thursday–thoughts about career and five-year plans and marketing that I’ve had in this same skyway, far removed from the secret, labyrinthine tenets of elevator etiquette.