Gentlemen:
Let's review our little interaction from my perspective, shall we?
I get in the elevator. There are three people there (you two and the older lady with the awesome shoes) and one button pressed, for one of the lower floors. I press the button for my floor, which is one of the higher floors. The doors close and the elevator proceeds to the lower floor. The lady with the awesome shoes gets off, but you two don't move. The door closes.
So now I'm trapped in the elevator with two strange men who, as far as I can tell, are following me. The only floor that was pressed before I got on had come and gone, and you two didn't give the slightest sign that you cared, or press a button for another floor, or anything. And, come to think of it, you were awfully quick on the door close button after the lady with the awesome shoes got off. And you're also positioned in such a way that I will HAVE to get off first, and there's no way to change this choreography. And I don't even have my phone on me because I just ran down to the mailroom. (In retrospect, perhaps I could have pressed a button for an earlier floor and gotten off sooner, but I didn't think of that at the time.)
So what can I do now? I look at you, so I can give your description to the police if I ever get out of this alive. And I make my look a glare, because I'm certainly not going to give a positive or neutral expression to the two strange men who seem to be following me! I try to emote the most fuck-off vibes I can possibly emote, and I try to discreetly arrange my keys in my hand so my apartment key is right there between my thumb and my forefinger ready to open the apartment door, and all the other keys are in between my fingers to reinforce the first punch I expect to have to throw. (Gift of Fear told me not to do this because apparently it shows the potential attacker that you're scared or something, I forget the exact details, but I have to get the apartment key ready anyway and it's not like I have a lot of options at this point.) Meanwhile, I'm mentally debating whether I should get to my apartment as quickly as possible so I can get a locked door between us and access to a phone and some things I might be able to use as weapons, or whether I should fake going the other way so you don't find out where I live. The doors open on my floor. I decide to go for my apartment. I stride brusquely out of the elevator and down the hall, glad for once to have inherited my parents' fast-walking genes. As I turn to put my key in the door, I glare in your general direction again to see what you're up to, and breathe a sigh of relief when I see you at the door to another apartment on my floor, unlocking it properly with a proper key.
So yeah, in conclusion, the "What a bitch!" that one of you uttered just before your door closed was perhaps less called-for than you thought.
6 comments:
This reminds me of a class assignment back in college (I minored in sociology), where we were supposed to 'take the role of the other' and try and figure out why people behaved the way they do under a given scenario. Here goes:
The two guys go into the elevator at about the same time as shoe lady, who stands near the floor buttons. She hits lower floor button. They know they're going to a higher floor, so they decide rather than calling out their floor or reaching around shoe lady, they'll just wait until she gets off and then press the button they want. Then you enter and hit the button for your floor. They know this is also their floor, so you've done the button-pushing for them. Elevator gets to shoe lady's floor and she gets off. This is not their floor, so they hit the door close button to get everyone moving again right away. Elevator eventually gets to your floor (which we know is also their floor). You get off, they get off, everyone heads to their respective apartment.
In the meantime, you've greeted them with a glaring once-over, added some 'fuck-off' vibes, walked away from them as fast as you could and then topped it all off with a second dose of the evil eye.
I suspect your reaction, which implied you automatically considered them low-lifes who intended to do you some sort of harm, is what led to the parting shot in your direction.
Sound like a possibility?
I think she knew why they said what they did, and she just wanted to tell her side of the story somewhere. No harm in that.
It's a strange phenomenon I've noticed, especially on the internet, I see men being offended because strange women treat them like strange men. (e.g. they pull up alongside a pedestrian to ask directions, and she steps out of arm's reach of the car just like everyone's been doing automatically since Paul Bernardo happened.) So I always ask how, precisely, the strange women were supposed to know that they were safe and not creepy strangers. No one has yet been able to give me a useful answer.
I suspect your reaction, which implied you automatically considered them low-lifes who intended to do you some sort of harm, is what led to the parting shot in your direction.
So you know exactly nothing about what it's like to be female?
Sound like a possibility?
Very scary thing, Imp Strump. It's a terrible feeling.
For me, it might have triggered some PTSD stuff. My heart races even reading about it.
So I always ask how, precisely, the strange women were supposed to know that they were safe and not creepy strangers. No one has yet been able to give me a useful answer.
You cannot know, and thus must assume on the side of caution for your own personal safety.
That's why Fran's comment is so unhelpful.
Post a Comment