Posts tagged ‘elevator’

Meanwhile in Vienna…

As y’all know, we recently were vacationing in Italy, Bibione to be exact.

We were gone 17 days. One day before our departure our elevator (living on the 6th floor, or 7th of you’re American) was shut down for service repairs. Which was very delightful for me, now having to haul the suitcases down to the basement garage (6th floor up, so 8 floors total).

It was out of commission for one and a half weeks during our absence.

We later learned it wasn’t just serviced, oh no:
They replaced the hydraulics.

Before the replacement the elevator made a VROOM sound, when it was starting to go up, that you heard in the entire apartment!

Now that VROOM sound is gone. Now it is making a TOC TOC TOC TOC sound when going up. The entire length of the journey UP.
THAT YOU HEAR IN THE ENTIRE APARTMENT!

Fuck me sideways.

What hydraulics did they use? Second grade, second hand, salvaged from a scrap yard??

Jesus ascending Christ!

If you’ll excuse me, I have to break something…in the elevator…

A.

Love?

In the beginning man and woman met outside. While hunting. While foraging.

A clout over the head, drag her to the cave, bang the ever living daylight out of her until your doomseed spawns out of her. 
You know… 
Love.

Later men and women met in the social constructs beset on them by class. Arranged marriage, basically the same as in the beginning, without the clout. 
Later in time, they courted one another, talked, fell in love. Doomseed, yada yada yada.
You know…
Love.

In the mid to late 20th century that entire crap got too time consuming so the local classifieds popped up.
Men and women filled pages of the newspapers in small print, advertising oneself like some overripe fruit on a farmersmarket five minutes before they close for the long weekend. 
You know…
Love.

That was too time consuming too after a while, so some rabbi came up with speed dating. 
Your entire life, your achievements, hopes, dreams, aspirations, character, interests, and what not, distilled into a ten minute conversation with one another, and then go over the entire list – again.
You know…
Love.

Time is money, you don’t have an entire evening for this! 
Pour a condensed vision of that distilled “You” into an online profile and off you go!
You know…
Love.

But even that was inconvenient, since we didn’t have it on the go. So some shit like tinder, really was inevitable. Condensed distilled you, photo, swipe. 
You can do it on an elevator, riding the subway, taking a dump.
You know. 
Conven…err…”Love”…

And what did I read in a newspaper just the other day? 
THAT was too stressful for some New Yorkers! They OUTSOURCED their tinder-ing to someone else who is doing the swipe based fuck selection for them.
You know. 
Love?

It kinda reminds me of the entire Farmville crap. On Facebook, a place for the condensed distilled version of you that you choose to represent, you could play a game. Farmville. 
You know.
Fun.

That wasn’t good enough for people. So they HIRED others to play the game for them. On their Facebook. 
As them.
So some underpaid poor sods in a clickfarm somewhere in southeast Asia played as white middle class Facebook people, for some extra grain or geese. 
You know.
Fun?

This is in no way different. 
Something that should be deeply personal – fun and relaxation in one case, fun and romance in the other – something that is as convenient as fuck, something that can be done on the go, outsourced. 
“I have neither time not nerve for fun, relaxation, games, love, or procreation. Let someone else do it.”
You know.
“Life”.

If your life style (or “work-life-balance”) doesn’t allow for playing a fucking game, or the convenience based swipe partner selection, trust me, you won’t have time for your partner in the unlikely chance you ever even found one. Ultimately losing them again.
Which you probably wouldn’t even notice until they send you on mandatory vacation…
You know.
Shitty life.

Take care.
A.

Cabin of Death roaring

After the elevator had been out of commission for a week, instead of ten days (at least something), it worked for just as long.

A week.
One fucking week!

Are you kidding me? Are you being serious?

In addition to the damn thing being broken AGAIN, the entire time it DID work, every time it started to move UP it let go a roar that was the loudest in the sixth floor.
My floor.

It is already being fixed, as I write these lines.
But the roaring persists…that’s what you get for taking the cheapest contractor…

Take care,
A.

Cabin of Death under repair.

“Dear tenants, please notw that from the 2nd of May until the 12th of May 2016 this elevator willbe offline, due to maintenance and repair. We are sorry for the inconvenience.”

Alright.
I am not burning down the house.
Yet.

I live on the 6th floor, or the 7th if you can’t count right (a.k.a. American), which means on a normal weekday I go down once in the morning, and ideally, up once in the afternoon. If there’s an “emergency” more often in both directions.

This time span includes a weekend, a holiday and a banking holiday. I hope that am all ten days from rhe earliest hour possible, until the latest possible, there will be men (amd women?) laboring hard to improve our technological standard and safety.
Because of not, I will become irked.
And then I will burn shit.
So I leave the house at 6am, there better be a bunch of schmucks greeting me with a smile and greasy faces ready to weld something, including the banking day, and holiday.
Or you turn the darn thing back on during the four day weekend you and your lazy jerkoffs are going to take, now are you?

I know, they will not be turning it on, and I know, they will not be working from 6am till 10pm, but at least I was able to let off some steam…

Take care, and steer clear of elevators…
A.

Life ain’t that hard, Escalate and Elevate

It is simple, both devices take you from one floor to another. And for both you don’t need a PhD in theoretical physics.

Look, it’s simple:
★ Escalators, are basically stairs that go up, or go down:
•stand on the right
•walk on the left
•don’t sit on the handrail and don’t be surprised to plummet to your death if you do
•tie your Shoelaces beforehand, or else they may get caught in the thing
•don’t “run” in the opposite direction staying stationary
•watch your step upon stepping on and off the thing
•no pram, bike, wheelchair, dog or unicorn on this

★Elevators, these cabins of death move vertically, not yet in the horizontal plane, or diagonally, it is bets to sing “Oh lord, what is I gon’ do?” upon entry, and keep these in mind:
•I can’t stress the importance of doors.
•press button of desired target floor
•don’t: fart, defecate, urinate, spit, litter, fuck, vomit…eat, drink…deal with or consume drugs, murder people or animals, make or play music, apply deodorant/perfume/cologne…or worst of all: converse.
•upon exit, don’t press (all) other floor buttons
•someone approaches the elevator, hold the door open, don’t close it on them (or let it happen)
•no silly creepypasta games. Ever.
•it is not funny to press the emergency button
•in case the elevator gets stuck, press the emergency button, and remain calm, take long breaths
•IN CASE OF FIRE THE SHAFT ACTS LIKE A CHIMNEY, so DON’T use it…
•if it has one, do not press the STOP button

Now that this is cleared up, we can take the stairs…
•don’t put flowers on them, buy a shelf you cheap frak
•don’t sit there like homeless people, get a couch you cum stain…

Take care,
A.

Life ain’t that hard, public transportation

You know what would make the daily commute a real treat? Less of any…

Riding the bus, or anything else public transport, isn’t exactly complicated, it’s fairly easy.  But all the while people have trouble with it, so to make it all a little less shitty, a little less smelly, a lot less noisy and overal a little bit nicer, here it is, simply read and remember (or print out):

☆Beforehand: Take a shower, or use deodorant. But do not bathe in cologne/perfume! Do not apply any of this stuff at the public transport of choice
☆Beforehand: Brush your teeth, or get a strong gum. Do not use strawberry toothpaste, or brush your teeth in public transportation!
☆Food isn’t sold or served in the vehicles, so don’t eat there! You’re not a Hobbit.
★It’s not a restroom, so don’t shit, piss or, if possible, vomit here! And don’t change your tampon either!
☆This ain’t a watering hole, get drunk elsewhere.
☆Earphones yes, Speakers no. No one cares for your shitty taste in what you wrongly call “music”.
☆This ain’t a phone booth, if you get a call, tell them you’re busy, don’t call anyone. If everyone did it, the noise would be unbelievable.
☆This is not a Singles Bar, stop hitting on people!
☆Do. Not. Fuck. There! Seriously, does this need an explanation? (This includes dry humping.)
☆Old, pregnant, handicapped people with infants get your seat if you are NOT in any one of these categories.
Doors. Nuff said.
☆Don’t deal with or consume drugs in the public transport, or adjacent places.
☆Busses, Trains, etc. are not a stage for you aspiring ‘musicians’, they’re not the catwalk for all you pretend ‘models’ and they’re not a good photo op. Got it? Good.
☆Unless you need help (heart attack, etc.) or help (lost) or help (getting mugged/groped/etc.) DO NOT TALK TO STRANGERS
☆Throw garbage into litter bins, especially chewing gum! Don’t you get my butt stuck to the seat.
☆Don’t fight. This isn’t your territory, it isn’t contested. It belongs to the government/transportation company.
☆If you are with one or more friend/s keep your conversation at a low volume, if you’re deaf – learn sign language.
☆Old people, well into retirement, this one’s for you: During rush hour, stay wherever you are, but stay away from public transport. Same with women who have small children.
★Bicycles, don’t bring them here. Seriously, be a nuisance elsewhere, but don’t come here with your thing (soon!)
★Escalators and Elevators, holy crap, we really have to explain these too? Okay, soon…
☆Take your feet off the seats, take your bags of the seats. Or else some of hour fellow commuters might become hostile.
☆This ain’t your bed, so do not lie across two (or more) seats. Your options are: sitting and standing.
Or you can walk.

See? A concise list, easily committed to memory, a small print out.
Or, as I would call it “COMMON FRACKING SENSE”.

Take care, and
☆Get a friggin ticket before taking the ride. No bullshitting your way out of it!

A.

Life ain’t that hard, break it up!

Look people, we are all adults here, some of us partially educated, which is why I find it more disturbing than I am willing to admit, that door etiquette is an alien concept to so many.

As usual,  it really is simple, follow this procedure:
•if people want to exit a/n train/tram/bus/ferry/elevator/store/etc. while
•you want to enter it,
•you step aside,
•let them leave,
•then you enter.

There is no deviation from this procedure.
None.
Not if your elderly, pregnant and especially if you have some little gremlin on or around you, who should be raised with some proper door mannerism.

Regardless of your ethnicity, gender, gender identity, religion, sexuality, age, etc. – if you block the way of exiting people, or worse, enter while others are leaving, or before others have exited – you’re a jerk, and you deserve to be tackled as if this was american football!

For frak’s sake, people, print this, and hand it to people who you just tackled to the ground. Makenot your daily ritual of reading this before you leave the house, stick it to your front door, so you’ll read it before leaving.
Just stop standing in front pf the doors, or running into people who are leaving.

Life really is not that hard. Now break it up, that group of yours has to split apart down the middle, so people can exit the vehicle/elevator/store and you can enter right after…

A.

Cabin of Death returns…

So, before I start, let me give you a tour of the elevators I am frequenting.

The elevator at home is a cabinet the size of 1 meter times half a meter. The sign says “4 Persons”…what kind of persons? Anorexic teenagers lifted from a mental facility?
Once we tried. From 6th floor to ground floor. After two seconds we gasped for air, as the oxygen was gone withing that time, after another two seconds we were gasping for more air, as the elevator had gotten stuck.
But it is supposed to be able to lift “320 kp”.
What unit is “kp”? The opfficial weight meassure in my country is “KILOGRAMs” or “kg”. So what is “kp”? Kilo pound? That would make it 320,000 pounds. You can’t get to that number if you take four super fat americans who drink their coffee with extra added fat-milk!
So what is 320 kp meant to be?

Carrying on, the cabin of death at my work place is supposed to handle 10 people, or 1000 kilograms. Now, this is more reealistic. 100kg per person, times ten is 1000 kg. Plus it’s an actual weight unit.
We once got in six of us. And we’re not the american super weight people who are fatter than the fattest man alive from the 1950’s. Normal people, ranging between 60 and 100 kg. Mind you, we were six!
Immediately the alarm went off: BEEEEEP! and the red light lit up telling us that we were too heavy.

How do they come up with these arbitrary numbers of people allowed in the elevator anyways? I imagine they stuffed ten plastic mannequins in there, two rows of three, two piled up sideways between the rows and another two stuffed overhead. Then the engineers looked at each other and nodded, saying “ten?”
“Yes, ten.”

So, recently I got into one of the elevators at work, the doors closed, and – if you’re like me you have something in your hand. Cellphone, tablet, book, magazine, newspaper, anything to occupy your mind. – after a while you turn, like the good programmed little drones we are, and then it hits you! The bloody thing hasn’t moved a millimeter!
Frantically you start hitting all the buttons, door open, door close, all the floors, close to pressing the alarm button suddenly the door pops open on the floor you entered and you jump out!
Weird thing is, after this the elevator goes where it is supposed to. Not that I have ridden it out, I’m not going near the damn thing anymore.
Only recently I had waited for a bloke who had entered the thing before me, while holding the door of the other elevator. He came out, relieved to be free again, and thanked me for waiting.

So, the Cabin of Death strikes again. Repeatedly, all the while I hear people tell stories how they got trapped.

Take the stairs, people,
A.

Buttonmashing

Someone nicked the “Close door” button from the elevator in the office.

Why?
Who?

Is that person sitting at home now and mashing the button in the vane hope of closing the door remotely with it?
It often marvels me why things like that happen.
Not all too long ago someone had nicked the 1st floor button. Perhaps someone is building an elevator in his basement, and soon the Basement buttons will go missing.

I wonder what other useless crap people steal.
Singular Walltiles?

In other news, someone wrote to me “my radio broke down due to technical difficulties”…what else than technical difficulties? Occult attacks by a sect that is spread over twenty different care homes, throwing ectoplasm and other gallert substances with a pulse of 4 attacks per second? No. When a device breaks down it is always due to TECHICAL difficulties.

Unless of course someone nicks parts from it, as the now stuck elevator with the missing button proves.

Saw a sign in a storewindow the other day “Handcrafted Styrian Ice”. Perhaps their buttons got nicked too, so they had to make it by hand?
Wait!
Styrian?
Oh, I see, Arnold Schwarzenegger came from Styria, and he also was Mr.Freeze, so I guess it IS handcrafted, buttons or no.

At home the blank button in the elevator reminded me, someone had nicked the 3rd Floor button. If it was the same person as in our office building this is even more irritating, at work we have huge circular buttons, at home small square ones. Perhaps the Ground floor (E) is an invert 3 now, and the buttons are a messy mix of different buttons.

Either that or several people are building elevators in their basements. O.o

So much for the buttonmashers. At least touchscreen phones prevent people from using the stolen buttons on their phones…

Cabin of death!

When laziness is stronger than survival instinct, you’re fucked!
And in my case, it is!

Let me explain, the elevator in my home got stuck twice, with me on board.
It felt like a god damn death trap, and after each incident I vowed to walk the stairs from then on.
Suffice it to say, living in the 6th floor, not counting ground level, so for you Americans out there: the 7th floor, soon made me change my mind back to using the elevator.

I’m only writing this, because recently, I got stuck in the elevator at the office!

Death traps, death traps everywhere!

The elevator in my office failed because of a short circuit in the button panel, I pressed for ground level, the elevator went to the ground level then the short-circuit hit and it stopped between 1st floor and ground level. The elevator at home however is an entirely different story: I don’t know the reason for one of the two times I got stuck, but the other was, that someone had opened the door to the elevatorshaft in the basement. Health and safety systems engaged the emergency stop.

How do I know this so precisely?

Easy, I was suspected as one of the people who could’ve opened it…

That’s right I was suspected to have opened the basement elevator door, while inside the elevator between 5th and 6th floor! What kind of twisted fucked up idiot would make that connection?

Did the accusers really think I unlocked the basement elevator door, sprinted seven storeys up and took the elevator down? Or are they saying I astral-projected my ass down there, just to unlock the door, and get myself, and three other people, stuck in a room roughly 1.25 x 1 meter?
After the thing had stopped between floors the second time I knew how to get out and so I did, I shouldn’t have, but not for health and safety reasons, but insurance regulations!

In case you are wondering how I was able to exit the elevators: 1st time – help arrived. 2nd time – I opened the door myself. 3rd time – pressed the button for 1st floor and walked down…

My survival instinct still hasn’t gotten any stronger, I still take the elevator, rather than the stairs…

A.