A couple of months ago, I was waiting for the elevator to go downstairs in my apartment building. When the elevator arrived, it was packed full of people. There was barely enough room for me to slip in and slide into one of the front corners of the car. As the doors closed, my cell phone started ringing in my jacket pocket. Now some of you, my loyal readers, know that one of the biggest pet peeve is when people talk on their cell phones in small, cramped public spaces like in elevators and public transit. Why is that the people who talk the loudest on their cell phones in these places are the ones with the most inane, boring, and aggravating conversations? I don’t like being a hypocrite so I really didn’t want to answer my phone. I did, however, look at the call display to see who it was. It was a friend who was calling though, a dude who I was going meet up for lunch soon but hadn’t worked out the details yet. I know I could have just let it go to voicemail and call him right back but I didn’t want him to think I was ignoring his call. So I came up with a compromise. I answered the call said somewhat discreetly:

“Hey man, I’m in the elevator and I don’t want to be that guy. I’ll call you as soon as I get out.”

I quickly put my phone away and I didn’t think anyone really had heard what I said. I stole a glance to my right and I saw a young lady who was looking down at her feet and trying to hide a smile. I guess she overheard my short conversation. The rest of the ride down to the lobby went in silence. As everyone piled out of the elevator and began walking to the lobby doors, I heard the young lady say to her elevator companion:

“Dad! You’re that guy all the time! Ha!”

Young lady, I hope you and your father learned a lesson that day. Don’t be that guy.


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