Not before 9, gentlemen
Elevator banter has gotten me into trouble before. It’s not an easily navigable situation, what with the whole “being trapped in a 4×6 or so box with perfect strangers” thing.
Take this exchange not a month ago in which I was talking to my coworker in the elevator when super hot Jeep guy joined us on the lift:
Average Jane to Colleague: So, I hear your lackey is starting Monday.
AJ: Yeah, you know, like, your, um…
Hot Jeep Guy: Bitch.
AJ: Ha! Yeah. Your bitch.
C: (nervously) Yeah. Hehehe.
HJG: Well, that’s what it is!
AJ to HJG: Yeah. That’s what I’ll call you from now on. Bitch. Hehe.
Hot Jeep Guy looks at me with some concern and confusion.
HJG: Um, ok.
AJ: Aren’t you Jeep Guy?
HJG: Um…. He gets off the elevator.
Now, you all know me. I am not, how we say, good with the brain filter. But that just takes the cake. I called quite possibly the hottest guy who works in my building “bitch” and offered to continue calling him this as a term of endearment. Idiot.
Anyway, this just goes to show that I am not exactly a glowing example of the mastery of elevator banter. (As a note, I happen to have impeccable metro banter. This skill is key: When to talk. When to innocently eye-flirt. When to leave someone the F alone. Master. Me. Respect.)
But today I was on the receiving end of awkward elevator banter, actually starting innocently enough just before getting on around 8:31am, my typical arrival time to work.
I approach the elevator, there is a mildly attractive, moderately older than me Asian guy waiting for its impending arrival.
Tall Asian Guy: Morning.
Average Jane: politely nods
TAG: You look like a 4th floor person. Are you a 4th floor person?
AJ: notices a faint Australian accent. I am. whips out keycard to push 4th floor button.
TAG: clearly (hopefully) trying to be witty Man, I’m just a lowly 2nd floor guy. How do you think I could become a cool 4th floor person like you?
AJ: Oh, it’s hard.
TAG: You think I could do it?
AJ: It’s really not that easy. Takes time.
TAG: Yeah, I bet. cheesy grin.
AJ: Patience and time. Like the song.
TAG: Ha! We get to the 2nd floor and he gets off. By the way, I’m Andrew.
So, initially I thought he was just making friendly/awkward/unnecessary elevator conversation. But upon further examination, I kinda thing I was hit on. At 8:30 in the morning. BEFORE MY COFFEE!
Had it been just annoying banter, I don’t think name exchange is typical or appropriate. The anonymity of the elevator encounter is what makes banter even mildly acceptable. But the name exchange? Highly suspect.
I mean, never mind the whole hitting-on-someone-in-an-elevator thing, but who does this before 9am? Before the toothpaste taste has even left your mouth? Before the last eye booger has been found and stealthily removed?
Perhaps I am completely misguided (I mean, we all know I’m romantically retarded), but I am pretty sure someone actually hit on me, in an elevator, before 9:00 in the friggen morning.
Geez, gentlemen. You never cease to amaze me.
Update: So. Lunchtime. Some guy in a white blazer comes strolling out of the building just as I’m telling my 3 female colleagues about TAG. Lo and behold, it’s him. It took him not 5 minutes to spot us and saunter over, plopping himself down on the picnic bench and inserting himself into our conversation. The first thing he does is point out that he is single handedly bringing back the Don Johnson look of the 80s. Because that was cool, right? White blazer. Bright blue collared shirt. Matching blue watch (from Nordstrom Rack, he tells us).
He speaks in a strange cadence, waiting for us to find him witty and charming between every breath he takes. He waits a long time as none of the ladies nor I find him charming. Ever the opportunist, he begs us to tell him what we do and asking what jobs are available for him. Clearly, I have “HR” tattooed across my forehead. Right next to “sucker”.
We did that thing where he says something stupid and we give a snide remark, hoping he’ll get the point and leave. He doesn’t. Rather, he waits until I inform the troops that “happy hour” is over and we have to go back inside. And he follows us. Inside. He stands in the elevator facing us, another memo he clearly missed. When he gets off on the 2nd floor the 4 of us crack upm promptly renaming him CrAG: Creepy Asian Guy. Otherwise known as BrAG: Brazen Asian Guy. Otherwise known as…. Clueless.
Trackbacks & Pingbacks
- Top Posts « WordPress.com pingbacked on 9 years, 1 month ago
- The Game « The Roaring Mouse pingbacked on 9 years, 1 month ago