#26: Tight Spaces in High Places
At the beginning of this month I had the opportunity to go see some of my company's equipment in one of our customer's buildings downtown. Do I know what this equipment does? Not really. Do I care what it does? Not so much. Do I even know what the equipment looks like? Nope. Do I get three hours out of the office on a work day and still get paid? Hell yeah, I'm there!
The customer's building was in the heart of downtown Minneapolis and it was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and the air was warm, and we had a lovely four-block walk from the parking garage. That alone was worth the tedium that I was sure would follow. How interesting can cable/fiber wires be?
The building was a gorgeous 1940's skyscraper that was in the process of being remodeled. Construction workers were everywhere. Distinguished in the morning business crowd by their yellow hard-hats, they climbed ladders installing lights and hammering away at drywall. Our Installer flagged us down, got us signed in and told us we'd first be heading up to the 14th floor. He led us past the mirrored, contemporary elevators in the main lobby to the rear of the building and another block of elevators. The building's original Otis elevators.
The elevator doors were covered in dusty, wrought iron gothic arches and looked like they hadn't been opened in at least a decade. If my life had a soundtrack, the chord of doom would have played as I watched the others get on. My imagination was whirring away, calculating the possibility of the elevator's decaying, frayed cables, snapping the moment we began our ascent in the sealed 5x5 metal box.
Everyone else was inside the car staring at me. It reminded me of the ghost story where a dark hooded figure beckons from a full elevator saying, "There's room for one more," just before the elevator plunges to the ground and everyone inside dies.
I tentatively slid my first foot across the threshold of the car. Deep inhale. You can do this. Second foot across. Aaaaaand I was in. It wasn't until the door slid closed and Installer pushed the "14" button that I remembered to let my breath out. Whoooooooo, everything was going to be fine. Just a little ride in an elevator. Heh heheh. Can't believed I was silly enough to be so ...
That's when the car dropped.
No, seriously. The lights flickered, the car swung back and forth and it dropped. It may have only dropped half a foot, but one second I was giggling at my paranoia and heading up to the 14th floor and the next I was plummeting to my death. TO. MY. DEATH.
As a woman near me screamed, I grabbed for the railing inside the elevator only to realize there wasn't one. I closed my eyes as my heart tried to escape my doomed body by clawing its way through my throat. I telepathically told my family and Sir "I love you" and "Ha, ha! Whose fear of heights and small enclosed spaces is irrational now?"
A matter of seconds later, the car's lights were back on and we were heading up to the 14th floor like nothing had happened. Though looking at my companions, I knew I hadn't imagined it. The screaming woman had grabbed a complete stranger's hand and her vice-like grip still entrapped it. Everyone else looked as pale and wild-eyed as I felt. Except Installer. Who laughed at us. "We get stuck in these things all the time," He said jauntily. Well that may have been nice to mention BEFORE WE STEPPED INTO THIS PLUMMETING BOX OF DEATH.
We made it to the 14th floor safely and the rest of the day proceeded with the tedium I had expected. However, when we traversed floors, Screaming Woman and I firmly refused to get onto any more of the old elevators. No amount of cajoling would get us to budge from our firm footing on the marble floors outside the ancient elevators. Installer, rolling his eyes, finally gave into our protests and snuck us onto the service elevator, which was agreeably much more sturdy, at least 20 years newer and had Oh Shit! railings.
The next time I feel uneasy about an elevator, I will walk those 14 floors. In addition to not plummeting to my demise, think of the calf muscles I'll develop!
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The customer's building was in the heart of downtown Minneapolis and it was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and the air was warm, and we had a lovely four-block walk from the parking garage. That alone was worth the tedium that I was sure would follow. How interesting can cable/fiber wires be?
The building was a gorgeous 1940's skyscraper that was in the process of being remodeled. Construction workers were everywhere. Distinguished in the morning business crowd by their yellow hard-hats, they climbed ladders installing lights and hammering away at drywall. Our Installer flagged us down, got us signed in and told us we'd first be heading up to the 14th floor. He led us past the mirrored, contemporary elevators in the main lobby to the rear of the building and another block of elevators. The building's original Otis elevators.
The elevator doors were covered in dusty, wrought iron gothic arches and looked like they hadn't been opened in at least a decade. If my life had a soundtrack, the chord of doom would have played as I watched the others get on. My imagination was whirring away, calculating the possibility of the elevator's decaying, frayed cables, snapping the moment we began our ascent in the sealed 5x5 metal box.
Everyone else was inside the car staring at me. It reminded me of the ghost story where a dark hooded figure beckons from a full elevator saying, "There's room for one more," just before the elevator plunges to the ground and everyone inside dies.
I tentatively slid my first foot across the threshold of the car. Deep inhale. You can do this. Second foot across. Aaaaaand I was in. It wasn't until the door slid closed and Installer pushed the "14" button that I remembered to let my breath out. Whoooooooo, everything was going to be fine. Just a little ride in an elevator. Heh heheh. Can't believed I was silly enough to be so ...
That's when the car dropped.
No, seriously. The lights flickered, the car swung back and forth and it dropped. It may have only dropped half a foot, but one second I was giggling at my paranoia and heading up to the 14th floor and the next I was plummeting to my death. TO. MY. DEATH.
As a woman near me screamed, I grabbed for the railing inside the elevator only to realize there wasn't one. I closed my eyes as my heart tried to escape my doomed body by clawing its way through my throat. I telepathically told my family and Sir "I love you" and "Ha, ha! Whose fear of heights and small enclosed spaces is irrational now?"
A matter of seconds later, the car's lights were back on and we were heading up to the 14th floor like nothing had happened. Though looking at my companions, I knew I hadn't imagined it. The screaming woman had grabbed a complete stranger's hand and her vice-like grip still entrapped it. Everyone else looked as pale and wild-eyed as I felt. Except Installer. Who laughed at us. "We get stuck in these things all the time," He said jauntily. Well that may have been nice to mention BEFORE WE STEPPED INTO THIS PLUMMETING BOX OF DEATH.
We made it to the 14th floor safely and the rest of the day proceeded with the tedium I had expected. However, when we traversed floors, Screaming Woman and I firmly refused to get onto any more of the old elevators. No amount of cajoling would get us to budge from our firm footing on the marble floors outside the ancient elevators. Installer, rolling his eyes, finally gave into our protests and snuck us onto the service elevator, which was agreeably much more sturdy, at least 20 years newer and had Oh Shit! railings.
The next time I feel uneasy about an elevator, I will walk those 14 floors. In addition to not plummeting to my demise, think of the calf muscles I'll develop!
Labels: Online Journal Rule 1: Never talk about work
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posted by Sun at 10:00 AM
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