When my kids were little and we’d get onto an elevator, they’d get this horrified look on their face like, WHATTHEFUCKISHAPPENING? And I was all, I know EXACTLY how you feel.

See, eleventy-niner years ago (rough estimate), I worked for a much-hated insurance company. While the company was a hot pile of bullshit, my job was actually to look for loopholes in insurance plans to allow people to cheat the system. While my title wasn’t “System Cheater,” like I’d regularly petitioned, I wasn’t one of the total assholes. At work, at least. Still, that didn’t stop people from regularly coming up to me and saying, “Wow, you work for Evil Insurance Company? I’d like to take a machete and cut off your fucking head and shit down your neck hole.” Didn’t EXACTLY boost morale, so when I quit, it was kind of a relief – at least my head would stay atop my spindly neck to annoy another day.

Anyway.

While I was usually one of those bring your lunch people (read: I bought a bag of baby carrots and diet Coke and ate them at my desk), occasionally my co-workers would strong-arm me into popping down to the bottom floor to eat lunch at the semi-pathetic cafeteria there. Normally, I was into taking the stairs because sitting at a desk all day, pouring over insurance plans to find ways to cheat the system wasn’t exactly getting the old heart pumping.

But when I took lunch with my friends, one of them had a problem with her knee and couldn’t exactly take the stairs without running the risk of falling down and smashing her head open like a melon. So I’d take the elevator with them, feeling like a total lazy-ass for going down four fucking floors when I had perfectly functional legs.

One day, we all piled onto the elevator like a bunch of puppies and pressed the basement button. We chatted idly about who would win American Idol that year, how the rain was good for my garden, and what a raging cuntbag our big boss happened to be when it happened.

A screech of metal gnashing upon metal, the lights flickered, and the elevator car fell for a couple of feet before grinding to a halt. Never having been one to be fearful of elevators (despite my fears of other things such as the color orange and fish – all fish), my heart began to pound. Desperately, we pressed the “DON’T TOUCH THIS UNLESS YOU MEAN IT” emergency button – the very same button my kids ALWAYS try to press because you’re not supposed to press it – and waited, sweating and panicked for someone to respond. The tinny voice coming out of the box informed us that the fire department would be there as soon as they stopped busting teenage smokers or whatever it is fire departments do in boring towns.

We settled in for the long haul. That is, all of us but one settled in for the long haul. As I sat on the floor, bored and hungry, there was that one guy. THAT guy. There’s always THAT guy. And this time, it was a girl.

I tried to be understanding, I really did. Getting trapped in an elevator wasn’t exactly how I planned to spend my lunch break either. And shit, I was a little claustrophobic, too, but I was determined not to be all Chicken Little and Panic! In The Elevator because I knew it would make it worse.

I don’t fault her for the panic. I do, however, wish she’d managed to control her screaming “WE’RE GONNA DIIIIEEE!” replete with pulling out her hair and clawing at her face, mostly because it seemed histrionic rather than genuine fear. Luckily, the fire department got there and pried the doors open before she could begin to eat her shit, as she’d been screaming she’d do. Why? I don’t know. Apparently that’s what some people do when they’re scared.

Me? I smother myself in condiments and try to get at least ONE person to wrestle me in a vat of baked beans.

Different strokes and all that.

What do YOU do when you’re scared o! Pranksters, my Pranksters?

—————-
How have you been my Pranksters? I’ve missed you so much! C’mon over, grab a nice cup of coffee and tell Your Aunt Becky what’s been going on in YOUR world.
Comments = full of the awesome. Like gravy. I can haz an RSS RSS feed .

9 Responses to Panic! In The Elevator

  • nikkiana says:

    Great. Just great. Now I’m going to be paranoid every time I step into the elevator today. THANKS BECKY! :P

  • Maria says:

    I was really really scared two nights ago. Just as I emptied my mailbox, outside my dark house, where no porch lights were on, and no streetlight could reach, my Neighbor from H*ll came up, and started shouting.

    Apparently we were not only watching the soccer game (four 15-year olds, myself and my sweetheard) but also moving furniture (???) I really missed out on that, and I love rearranging furniture! Also, we are harassing him all the time, by closing our kitchen drawers. Uhm. Of course I *always* empty the dishwasher, set the table, and cook only to spite my neighbour.

    But anyway, there he was, closing in, shouting, following me up to my door. Trying to get in, while I was trying to come inside and shut the door. I had to physically push him away. When I tried to pull the door closed, he pulled it opened.

    I shouted to him to go away, but he said I must listen to him – or call the police. So I pulled out my phone and started dialling. Then he left.

    I locked the door.

    And then I panicked. Bawling, blubbering and weeping, on the emergency number. Walking back and forth back and forth, crying on the phone. Got connected to police. They made sure I was unharmed, and that he wasn’t in the house. And promised to send people. I cried, I couldn’t sit still, but walked back and forth, around and around, until the police came.

    While I waited, I called my boyfriend, who helped me take deep breaths. Finally I could sit down, and when the policemen (yes, they were good looking… I may be in panic, but I’m not blind) I was somewehat coherent. Still crying ugly tears, using up half a kitchen roll while giving testimony.

    They left eventually, and went directly next door, to give the crazy ass dude a good talking to. If he ever shouts at me again, I’ll report him and get a restraining order. I have a good story on him.

    So, in short, when I panic, I cry ugly, and can’t sit still.

    Maria

  • Jolie says:

    Ok, all I know is sounds like your old job was what Mr Incredible did. which makes me all giggly. Did your boss look like that little shit of a boss too? roflmao
    Missed you like crazy girl. :)

  • Lovelyn
    Twitter: NebulousMooch
    says:

    I got stuck in an elevator once with four very pregnant women once. They were all going to the OB/GYN on the fourth floor. Anyway, we were in there for a good forty-five minutes and I just kept praying that none of them went into labor. I don’t know nothing about birthing no babies.

  • At the school where I work, they don’t have a real elevator, they have a LIFT. I don’t mean the British version of an elevator! You have to put the key in and actually hold the little arrow button the whole time, because if you let go, you’re stopped between floors. And you actually feel like you’re inside the walls. And when I take Grebe up and down on it, he bangs on the metal part of the lift the whole time and makes this loud, echoey sound… it is really freaky. I am not a big fan of the lift.

  • Hi AB,
    So glad you’re back! I’ve missed you.
    When I get scared, I eat. I also eat when I’m mad, stressed, anxious and bored. If there’s nothing to eat, I’ll think about eating, but I would never eat my feces.

  • Luna says:

    When I get scared, I get angry. Like raging bitch angry. Road rage guy started screaming at me that was a bitch, a cunt and a whore, because I *dared* to honk at him for cutting me off in a roundabout. He stopped his car (and all of traffic) to get out and yell at me. Did I do the smart thing and stay the fuck in my car? Oh hell no. I got out and screamed at him. Scared out of my skull that he’d hit me, I ranted at him, called him an asshole, and told him to learn how to fucking drive. After he left, I got back into the car, still ranting and raving. It wasn’t until I got home that I started to shake and drink copious amounts of booze.

    Brilliant. I realize.

  • PeteInAz says:

    Just stopped by to say Happy Christmas and Merry New Year.

  • MrsBlogAlot says:

    Hahaha!! I guess if I were scared I’d be one using somebody’s shoulder for leverage as I ran for safety. Come on, I’d email them the next day to see if they were okay.

    I would have also be the one to accidentally stab the ‘We’re gonna die’ girl in the brain. JK. only her right brain. teehee! (-:

    All the best in 2014 you awesome, funny girl!! xoxoxo!!!!

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