Along with three randoms from The Other Much Larger Company In The Building, I got trapped in the lift this morning. Tenth floor. Doors not-quite closed; gap of maybe a finger’s width.
Random #1 (short, female) tried to open the doors and failed. As did Random #2 (slim, male).
There’s a reason why I don’t entangle myself with practical things, and I wasn’t about to put it to the test. Assuming a managerial role, I suggested ringing security, using the number displayed above the lift buttons. Random #2 got on the case. Good man.
In large office blocks such as ours, safety procedures have to be precisely defined, and strictly adhered to. In this case, Stage Number One of the “Employees Trapped In Lift” scenario turned out to be…
…taking the first and last names of each employee, checking for correct spellings where necessary.
Well, it would be awful if they cocked up the headstones. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.
At this point, the previously silent Random #3 (burly, male) stepped forward, casually prised the doors open, and calmly stepped out.
It was either that or give his name out. You can only push a bloke so far.
troubled diva 