I had a panicky moment there on the way back to my desk from the kitchen. I took the lift, in honour of the scalding hot tea I was carrying, and got stuck. The indignity of it. I'm awful clumsy and accident prone so when something like that happens to me, I automatically feel guilty (regardless of whether or not I'm at fault) and assume that I am somehow to blame. Problem is, my reputation precedes me and everyone else usually assumes that I am somehow to blame also. So I stood there for a minute or two, mentally preparing myself and getting my story straight. The porters here already think I have special needs. I'm rightly fucked now.
I reached a finger towards the alarm button. And realised that I'd never pressed the button to tell the lift which floor I wanted in the first place. I wasn't stuck, I was just standing like a dickhead with a cup of scalding hot tea in a stationary lift, with the doors closed.
Sometimes I wonder.
I reached a finger towards the alarm button. And realised that I'd never pressed the button to tell the lift which floor I wanted in the first place. I wasn't stuck, I was just standing like a dickhead with a cup of scalding hot tea in a stationary lift, with the doors closed.
Sometimes I wonder.
