End of day, home time. My zombified body presses the elevator down button and the suspect-at-best elevator finally arrives on my floor. I stumble on, and press the P2 button. And that’s when I hear a very strange sound. I look around, confused before I finally realize it’s that emergency telephone ringing.
The work elevator is known for its sketchiness and I’m now convinced that I’m doomed to spend the night in this steel cage. Doing the only reasonable thing you can do when a phone rings, I open the telephone door and pick it up. Much to my dismay, the phone cord is only about a foot long, requiring me to press my cheek up against the side of the elevator in an awkward sumo squat position. In high heels, no less. Luckily, I’m the master of grace and squatting (talents that should not be taken lightly), so I rock it.
Oh great, I think. They aren’t sure how to tell me I’m trapped. That, or it’s like that really bad movie where the girl dials the random number on her cell phone and the person who answers is the only one who can save her from certain death. I may be a squat master, but I wasn’t prepared to do it for the long haul here. Plus how could I possibly run around like the heroine is supposed to if I’m stuck on the other end of this foot-long cord? I feel like I’ve already killed her and she hasn’t even spoken yet. That is way too much to have on my conscience at 5pm.
“Are you paying too high of an interest rate on your Visa or Mastercard?”
“Uh, I’m sorry?” This has got to be the strangest call to action that I’ve ever heard. Granted, high interest rates cause thousands of financial crises per year so I guess they’re pretty terrifying.
“Transfer your balance to us today and enjoy a promotional rate of 1.9 % for 6 months”
At that moment, I realize that I’m talking to a recording and am being solicited for credit products. Is no place sacred anymore?
“YOU’RE TALKING TO AN ELEVATOR!” I slam the phone down, smug that I showed that recording who was boss.
I walk off that elevator, relieved that I don’t have to spend all night diffusing bombs and negotiating with terrorists but I’m a little forlorn about it as well because if that did happen they’d probably make a motion picture out of my story and then I’d be famous and not have to ride in that POS elevator ever again.
Sometimes life just isn’t fair.