...when I got in the elevator.

Today I'm going to try to offer poignant commentary on our society.  In other words, I froze up when trying to think of something funny after my last entry, so I decided that instead of trying to be funny, I'd just be right.

I've been thinking about elevators.  Those of us who work in buildings with multiple floors begin and end our work day with the elevator.  It's kind of like the Russian Roulette of Social Interaction.  Until those doors open, you never know whether you're going to get the good, the bad, or the ugly.

The Bad

If you're just a little too early or a little too late...

Then there's that guy (or gal) who absolutely refuses to acknowledge there's another living, breathing human being in the elevator.

It's almost a relief to get to your office and find out you are not, in fact, completely invisible.  (As opposed to half-invisible or seven-eighths invisible.)

Or how about this one...

It is amazing to me how many people don't realize that when the elevator doors close, they will most likely lose signal.

Now this might reflect more on me than on my elevatormates, but nevertheless...

Even worse...

Or if you're short...

  But then again, sometimes I wish people weren't talking to me.

But nothing beats the ultimate conundrum - the problem that can't possibly be solved between the first floor and the fourth.  The problem that, in fact, all the time in the world may not be enough to solve.

But it's not all bad.  Sometimes the elevator can be a delightful start to the day...

The Good

And it always delights me to no end when I find out chivalry is not dead.

But sometimes, it's hard to categorize an interaction as wholly bad or wholly good, because there's a little bit of both in the mix.  Which leads me to...

The (Devastatingly Not) Ugly

That fateful day when I missed my chance to entice Elevator Guy into falling madly in love with me, sweeping me off my feet, and living happily ever after, I vowed that were I ever to run into him again, I would be much more charming than the first time.  Never again would I impugn his hints at serendipity.  Never again would I brush off his potential pick-up line.  Never again would I discourage him from becoming enchanted by my feminine wiles and whimsy.

But alas, Elevator Guy never graced the elevator again.  Or at least not at the same times I did.  Weeks went by.  Months, even.  I moved on to Tire Rotating Guy, Pizza Delivery Guy, and Elevator Guy No. 2, in that order.

I started taking art classes, which happen to be in the same building as my office.  One day I had a brilliant idea and brought a change of clothes to work.  It was all fine and dandy until I realized I hadn't thought to include a change of shoes.  So when it was time to go home, I thought "why go to all the trouble of changing back into my work clothes? It's past 6, no one's going to see me anyway."  Still decked out in stained khaki shorts and a T-shirt that I got in fifth grade but just now fits (who orders adult-sized T-shirts for fifth-graders?), I shoved my feet into my high heels and had a good laugh at how ridiculous I looked.

Note: If you haven't read my very first post, gumball God might seem a little random.  Click here for some context.

Post-Note Note: Did I set today's entire post in an elevator because I didn't feel like drawing a whole lot?  Maybe.

Post-Post-Note-Note Note: I really hope it's not sacrilegious to draw God like that.  I might ask for forgiveness just in case.