My Life is an Elevator
With a title like that this story should be about some profound and elaborate theory, but it is not. In fact, this title evolved out of just another random comment that came out of my mouth while I was at work one day.
My “life is an elevator” theory began when I started a new job at a company called Intertrans.com. The employment part of my life has always been a very simple activity. My work life consisted of the ever-so-popular dead end jobs that teenagers love to hate, but that all changed when I began working at Intertrans.com. The idea of the connection between responsibility and success manifested itself when I realized that a good job was my only link to a successful future. My roommate, Brian, had gotten a job with Intertrans.com and had been working for them for a few months when they decided to call me in for an interview. I was very excited to hear that I could actually get an office job where I had a desk and a computer, instead of the manual labor jobs I had held in the past. So, to make a long story short, I got the job and came to like it.
What I realized very quickly was how monotonous this type of work can be. The day-to-day work is not so bad, however, the drive into work, as well as waking up at the same time everyday, is starting to bother me. The worst part is the many times I am in an elevator throughout the day.
My day starts with Brian waking me up at approximately 7:30 am, I then proceed to take a shower and get dressed. While I’m doing this, Brian is making the phone call to our local burger place, which we like to call ‘Ghetto Burger.’ He orders two sausage breakfast burritos without onions or salsa and their hotcake special. At that point we have about ten minutes to finish getting ready. We drive to ‘Ghetto Burger’ and make a left turn onto Anaheim Street so I can park right in front. Every day, Brian walks in and pays for the food with his debit card, and I mysteriously forget to pay him for my food. With our breakfast hot and waiting to be eaten, we travel towards downtown Long Beach on Anaheim Street. At this point, it is about 8:10 which means that it is time for the morning DJ on Power 106 to make his prank call of the day. We laugh and then our laughter usually leads into some sort of superficial conversation, which keeps us busy enough until we get to the parking garage.
When we pull into the parking garage, I use my keycard that I was given from my company to open the gate. The parking garage has five levels, however, by the time we get there the whole place is full. So, we drive to the fifth floor and park as close to the elevator as possible. Brian jumps out of my car almost before it even stops moving, as if he cannot stand to be in the car with me for one more minute. Now we are at our first elevator of the day. This is the most important one due to the fact that a “hot chick” in the elevator with us could change the whole outcome of our day. The parking garage elevator is a very fast moving one, which does not really even matter considering we only travel downward five floors. After we get out of the elevator, we walk through the lower level of the garage and out to the street. My least favorite part about this journey is the wait at the crosswalk while bus after bus drives by. We usually sneak in a quick morning cigarette to get us going for the next hour or so.
After that cigarette, is another elevator, which we use to get up to the tenth floor. If we are lucky, we can make it past the security guard without having to talk to her. So, we make it to the tenth floor and walk all the way to the end of the hall where our office is. I punch in and travel to the customer service department where I always think that I am going to be able to sit down and eat my burrito. But that is not how it usually works out for me. I end up eating my burrito over the course of two hours while I answer the phone and listen to people complain in the office, as well as on the phone.
Anyone reading this must be saying, “Man, this guy likes to complain a lot.” That is a very true statement. Regardless of how this sounds so far, that is only the beginning of my daily relationship with elevators. Because I smoke cigarettes, I take smoke breaks very often throughout the day. I need to travel up and down from the tenth floor many times throughout the day. This can get very frustrating, yet it does not deter me from smoking cigarettes. By the end of the day, I feel like I am still in an elevator. I feel like my body is going up and down all the time. Is this normal? Am I just weird? Do other people who live and work in high-rise buildings feel the same way? I have many questions about this anomaly that will probably never be answered.
I know I mentioned something earlier about the possibility of there being a deep and profound meaning about the title of this short story, but there is not. I guess my story title means that life has its ups and downs and if a person wants to succeed in life, he or she has to endure these ups and downs. For right now, my life is an elevator.
The End
Love Jeff
just a little blurb my roomate wrote about his (and my) life. i think its a prime example of mindless american corporate life
With a title like that this story should be about some profound and elaborate theory, but it is not. In fact, this title evolved out of just another random comment that came out of my mouth while I was at work one day.
My “life is an elevator” theory began when I started a new job at a company called Intertrans.com. The employment part of my life has always been a very simple activity. My work life consisted of the ever-so-popular dead end jobs that teenagers love to hate, but that all changed when I began working at Intertrans.com. The idea of the connection between responsibility and success manifested itself when I realized that a good job was my only link to a successful future. My roommate, Brian, had gotten a job with Intertrans.com and had been working for them for a few months when they decided to call me in for an interview. I was very excited to hear that I could actually get an office job where I had a desk and a computer, instead of the manual labor jobs I had held in the past. So, to make a long story short, I got the job and came to like it.
What I realized very quickly was how monotonous this type of work can be. The day-to-day work is not so bad, however, the drive into work, as well as waking up at the same time everyday, is starting to bother me. The worst part is the many times I am in an elevator throughout the day.
My day starts with Brian waking me up at approximately 7:30 am, I then proceed to take a shower and get dressed. While I’m doing this, Brian is making the phone call to our local burger place, which we like to call ‘Ghetto Burger.’ He orders two sausage breakfast burritos without onions or salsa and their hotcake special. At that point we have about ten minutes to finish getting ready. We drive to ‘Ghetto Burger’ and make a left turn onto Anaheim Street so I can park right in front. Every day, Brian walks in and pays for the food with his debit card, and I mysteriously forget to pay him for my food. With our breakfast hot and waiting to be eaten, we travel towards downtown Long Beach on Anaheim Street. At this point, it is about 8:10 which means that it is time for the morning DJ on Power 106 to make his prank call of the day. We laugh and then our laughter usually leads into some sort of superficial conversation, which keeps us busy enough until we get to the parking garage.
When we pull into the parking garage, I use my keycard that I was given from my company to open the gate. The parking garage has five levels, however, by the time we get there the whole place is full. So, we drive to the fifth floor and park as close to the elevator as possible. Brian jumps out of my car almost before it even stops moving, as if he cannot stand to be in the car with me for one more minute. Now we are at our first elevator of the day. This is the most important one due to the fact that a “hot chick” in the elevator with us could change the whole outcome of our day. The parking garage elevator is a very fast moving one, which does not really even matter considering we only travel downward five floors. After we get out of the elevator, we walk through the lower level of the garage and out to the street. My least favorite part about this journey is the wait at the crosswalk while bus after bus drives by. We usually sneak in a quick morning cigarette to get us going for the next hour or so.
After that cigarette, is another elevator, which we use to get up to the tenth floor. If we are lucky, we can make it past the security guard without having to talk to her. So, we make it to the tenth floor and walk all the way to the end of the hall where our office is. I punch in and travel to the customer service department where I always think that I am going to be able to sit down and eat my burrito. But that is not how it usually works out for me. I end up eating my burrito over the course of two hours while I answer the phone and listen to people complain in the office, as well as on the phone.
Anyone reading this must be saying, “Man, this guy likes to complain a lot.” That is a very true statement. Regardless of how this sounds so far, that is only the beginning of my daily relationship with elevators. Because I smoke cigarettes, I take smoke breaks very often throughout the day. I need to travel up and down from the tenth floor many times throughout the day. This can get very frustrating, yet it does not deter me from smoking cigarettes. By the end of the day, I feel like I am still in an elevator. I feel like my body is going up and down all the time. Is this normal? Am I just weird? Do other people who live and work in high-rise buildings feel the same way? I have many questions about this anomaly that will probably never be answered.
I know I mentioned something earlier about the possibility of there being a deep and profound meaning about the title of this short story, but there is not. I guess my story title means that life has its ups and downs and if a person wants to succeed in life, he or she has to endure these ups and downs. For right now, my life is an elevator.
The End
Love Jeff
just a little blurb my roomate wrote about his (and my) life. i think its a prime example of mindless american corporate life
