I’ve noticed some signs popping up around my workplace. (Not signs from above, but, like literally, signs.) And though I make no secret that I’m frequently disenchanted with work these days, I don’t know whether I could ever leave either, because my workplace is quite the magnet for these types of distractions that make me smirk on a regular basis.
So this little gem recently showed up in each of our parking garage elevators. And it begs the question of who actually IS spitting on our elevator floors? Is this like a thing now? Like something that all the cool kids are doing that I’m missing?
And another question I have is how does “management” know that people are in fact doing this? Are there witnesses? Because isn’t spit clear, especially once it’s dried up? I mean, I guess it’s clear unless it’s filled with snot… But, in this situation wouldn’t it just resemble boogers instead? In this case the signs should probably read, “PLEASE DONOT PICK YOUR NOSE AND WIPE YOUR BOOGERS ON THE ELEVATOR FLOOR.”
And also, I kind of love the “AS THIS IS UNHEALTHY (NASTY)” part of this sign. Like people need to be told why it isn’t a good idea to spit on the elevator floor. But, if this justification’s indeed necessary, I still find the word choice curious. Unhealthy totally makes sense. But it’s kind of funny that they obviously think some might not understand, so they feel compelled to clarify with “NASTY.” Not unsanitary, or unhygienic, or perpetuates the spreading of germs, but “NASTY.” I guess it’s appropriate though – I mean, maybe “NASTY” will in fact resonate with those who can’t comprehend “UNHEALTHY.”
And there’s also the “THANK YOU MANAGEMENT,” as opposed to “THANK YOU, MANAGEMENT” – the current wording sort of implies that members of management are the culprits. Punctuation’s important, people!
So the last interesting part of all this was the other day after work I exited the building with AB and remembered this sign and asked whether she’d seen it. And she explained she hadn’t. So, as we stepped into the elevator, I pointed it out. And instead of erupting into laughter, asking me, “Are people really spitting in our elevators?” (i.e. reacting in the way I would’ve expected), she was like, “They really need to post a sign saying, ‘PLEASE DONOT PISS ON THE ELEVATOR FLOOR.’”
Because, according to AB, people actually urinate in our elevators more frequently than they spit. (Why?! And how does she know?!) So either AB has a point, or the sign maker’s confused dried urine for dried spit. (Which wouldn’t they at least smell different?) And the other woman on the elevator looked at us so judgmentally, probably wondering what kind of disgusting animals work/live in our building, all spitting and pissing in the elevators and such, so this was kind of awkward too.
Anyways, moving on…
So this is the other sign that showed up in our office building elevators… The “G” signifies The Gallery Apartments, but seriously, did they have to make it so easy for us? I mean, I’d like to think I coined the name “g-spot,” but I have reason to believe others thought of it too based on the comments like everyone would make upon this elevator’s arrival. It was like, “DING!” followed by, “Yeeeee-ah…”
Some background – around the time Matthew died, a major renovation of our building completed. The renovation consisted of turning old office space into “luxury apartments,” and I put “luxury apartments” in quotes, because apparently, in St. Louis, Missouri, this term’s loosely defined. But AB, JVB, and I toured them on one of my first days back to work, and, even in my heavy grief fog, I could see everything about them looked shoddy. Especially amusing was that someone must’ve found it visually appealing to include about seven different types of flooring (scrap materials from Hoods, perhaps?) all in a 900 square foot space, which, before Matthew died, I might’ve considered a minor tragedy.
So this g-spot is actually related to the remodel of our elevators – like building management thinks adding a voice telling riders where they’ve stopped, plus an elevator taking 35 seconds to open as it ensures it’s at the exact appropriate level to the millimeter, plus the large silver sticker that is the g-spot adds to the overall luxury feel of everything. (Yes, it’s a sticker.)
But this sticker idea totally backfired, because it didn’t take people (especially probably our resident elevator spitters and urinaters) long to realize this was indeed a sticker and to then start picking it as if it were a giant elbow scab or something.
Thus eventually it began to look horrible (as pictured), until finally some bold ass mo-fo just ripped it off the wall completely, which was the official end of the g-spot. So this sucks, because gone are the days when this elevator opens, and upon seeing the sticker, everyone sighs, shake their heads, and notes, “Damn, someone’s been messing with the g-spot again.”
So, on second thought, perhaps these actually are signs from above. Because maybe someone knows how much they’ll make me laugh.