I’m heading up in the elevator today at work because I had already walked halfway around the floor upon concluding that I really needed to go to the washroom and I was closer to the elevator bays than the stairs.
I get it, I’m on my phone coordinating a meeting, and this old-ass lady (I’m using the word in jest because polite people don’t just interrupt phone calls) climbs in and stands behind me with a male companion and loudly states “ninth floor please!”. I had half a mind to chew her out right then and there, but I held my tongue. I whipped my head around, thought better of cussing her out, and pressed the button.
That is not how you interact with people.
I don’t know you from a hole in the wall, so next time you’re in an elevator with someone that you don’t know, and at least one of your hands is free, press the motherfucking button yourself.