Elevators. You get in, you go up, you go down. Simple. But then there’s the small talk. ‘Going up?’ Well, yes, I’m standing in a metal box that is clearly ascending. What else would I be doing? Practicing my interpretive dance? ‘Nice weather out.’ Yeah, it was nice five minutes ago when I was *outside*. Now I’m in a confined space with three strangers. What do you want me to do, open a window? It’s like we’re all auditioning for a role as ‘friendly, non-threatening individual’ for 30 seconds. Just acknowledge me with a nod, and let’s stare at the numbers.
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