Ok, that’s not true at all. Some girls who saw me coming down the hallway right behind them didn’t hold the elevator today when we were all leaving work. Because it takes fifteen years for the elevator to respond to the call button and because I’m not so much on the stairs lately, I hustled a little bit and stuck my arm in the closing door just in the nick of time.
Apparently it takes the elevator as long to respond to that movement as it takes to respond to the call button.
I elbowed the door to get it to open, and half of it did. Not a full half of the door so I could go in and go home, but the outer layer of the door, leaving me staring at the mechanical skeleton of an elevator door while my arm remained immobile in the shut inner portion. Time stood still and for a split second, the thought that this thing could take off for the ground floor and take my limb with it flickered across my increasingly alert mind.
A frantic clicking of buttons came from inside the elevator and a second later, the door released its captive and I boarded the vicious contraption.
Me: <looking at other riders> Almost broke the elevator there!
Representative: We thought you were going to lose a claw.
Me: That’s ok, chances are good I wouldn’t have felt it anyway.
Plus, I think I could have applied for worker’s comp if I lost an arm in the elevator at work and then I wouldn’t have had to find a job in DC. What? I’m considering all options.
That same representative had asked me earlier, after a very busy and intimidating day policy-wise…
Representative: Do you ever feel like you’re in over your head?
Me: <shifty eyes>
Representative: You probably don’t.
Me: Well, sir, since I sort of work for you, I’d rather not answer that question honestly.
He laughed. Good thing, because I’ll probably need a reference from him before too long now that I escaped the elevator unscathed and worker’s comp is out of the picture.
‘Twas another evening of applications. This morning the husband overnight-mailed the application fee for the apartment we’re interested in and faxed our applications back. The leasing agent said things looked good at first glance and I’m crossing my fingers that on second glance, they don’t question “75 lb. Lab mix” or the fact that I work for a state located almost in the next time zone. Shhhh. I’ll find something. I will, I really will. I promise.