Well, today has not been off to the best start. I woke up crazy late, and the trains were backed up so I was extremely late to work.
When I finally arrived, I stepped into the elevator with three other coworkers. The elevator started moving, it jumped really fast and then came to a screeching halt. The doors didn’t open, and one of the guys said, “Well, they were doing work on these last night.” Which didn’t make me feel better because the woman who was chopped in half a few months ago died in an elevator that just worked on. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this before, but I don’t like elevators. I take them because I know it’s a mostly irrational fear and that I’ll be fine. But if they are too crowded or really old or really small, inside my head I’m either counting, telling myself to breathe, or screaming.
The three guys talked among themselves, trying to figure out the emergency phone while I just pushed myself against the back wall and tried to keep my panic attack under control. I don’t like showing my crazy to people, especially people I work with. We were probably only stuck for seven minutes total but to me it might as well have been three hours. As soon as we got out, I bee-lined it to my desk to call the building maintenance team. As soon as I put the phone down, hot tears started streaming down my face. It took me awhile to calm down, but I’m feeling okay now. I’m honestly surprised that I managed to keep it together as long as I did.
I won’t be taking the elevators for the rest of the day today, but I know that come Monday I’m going to need to get in again.
