The biggest lift paradox that exists is the belief that it will get you to your destination faster than taking the stairs. Just like Tinder started out as a dating app and later on transformed into an additional platform for instant gratification and platonic 3am conversations, lifts are not serving its original purpose of efficiency anymore, but rather our laziness. This laziness is kept alive through our cognitive dissonance towards the effectiveness of taking the lift, as we often spend the same amount of time waiting for it to arrive as it would take us to simply use the stairs. There are many reasons as to why traffic might occur, whether that be because it’s post-rush hour, or because some badly behaved kid thought it was a fun idea to go on a vertical rollercoaster ride by pushing all the buttons at once. The consoling side of these two occasions is that they don’t last very long. The real devil of the apartment blocks of hell, however, is the mover.
After weeks of broken promises to fix the lift that’s closer to my apartment, it was finally working again and I didn’t have to waste 20 precious seconds of my life to walk to the other one. I celebrated my relief as euphorically as someone who doesn’t want to show her enthusiasm too obviously can, and confidently pressed the button that would take me home in the exact time that my patience could handle. With a smile on my face, I lifted my head to look at the little red light that now indicates my relief and newfound love instead of anger and frustration, and lightly bopped up and down in anticipation for the mildly disappointing prototype of a space shuttle to arrive. Two minutes too many passed and I started to get suspicious. You can’t trust anyone or anything in this world, I thought to myself, and deliberated to call myself defeated by taking the other lift once again. My big toe was already twitching slightly in preparation to start moving, when I heard a loud and messy rumble. It was obvious that the lift was moving, but it kept teasing me with additional noises and the sign that it stopped on floors that weren’t mine. My curiosity made me wait to see what was inside the lift when it actually appeared on the ground floor, and opened up to reveal its story.
Two guys in t-shirts, drenched in sweat and the overestimation of how much they thought they could lift, appeared in front of me, holding nothing in their hands until they got outside to get some more cardboard boxes and furniture from their car. The thought of rushing into the lift and catapulting myself up to the sixth floor was suppressed by my superficial politeness to hold the door open for them as they tried to fit the next items into the lift. As it seems to be a common, human principle to try to carry everything from A to B in one go, no matter how much it defies all laws of gravity and space, of course they followed protocol and covered all walls and the floor with their stuff. Now was obviously not the time to take any passengers (me) into consideration, so I was neatly folded and crunched up into a corner like a box full of old DVDs that was going to be thrown away anyway. I looked up at both of them and accepted their thank yous with a nod and the most disingenuous smile in the history of social codes and conventions, just like you would do when you have to open the worst Christmas present in front of your 94 year old grandmother who keeps saying it’s her last. In this situation, I really hoped that was the case.
As if it wouldn’t have been enough for one person to suffer, of course we had to take a couple of mid-stops before I would deserve my moment of liberation and enter Nirvana. The door opened unexpectedly on the third floor, and a mother holding her child’s hand was looking at us. Within one second, I could sense her deliberating whether it would kill her to squeeze in with the rest of us, or if there might be other, less harmful options to pursue. She took a look at her child, who was impatiently waiting to get in as I assume that she saw gaps that were only obvious to midgets and children. I could almost hear her thinking about how long she’s already been waiting for, how she couldn’t just give in; she must persist! It was at that moment that I gave her the clearest “Nope. No chance” look and an apologising smile in solidarity of her fate. She ended up choosing the smarter decision and was already on her way down the stairs before she could even finish her announcement. Never have I ever wished to be someone else this much, as I saw her wander off to freedom while the corner of the movers’ cupboard engraved itself in my waist.
All three of us looked at one corner each, as you do if you follow the rules of lift etiquette correctly, and prayed that this journey would be over soon. I looked up at the number that was changing unusually slowly, secretly blaming the weight of the contents of the lift on its deceleration. My reflection in the mirror and I were so close to each other, that I could almost hear it whisper to me, as if it turned into a portal to an alternative universe that opens up if you only squish your face hard enough against its surface. Because it was my lucky day, there were no other passengers trying to join us in our real life round of human tetris, and I got closer to my floor with no further interruptions. When my magic number finally appeared and the doors to heaven opened up, I parcoured my way out of the lift with the elegance of a one-legged stork, and said farewell to the other two who had to suffer for a little while longer. I couldn’t wait to forget how inconvenient and uncomfortable this whole situation felt, so I wouldn’t even hesitate to do it all over again when the next movers arrived one week later.
