Elevator Operators

The other day I visited a friend of mine—and he’s in a pretty nice building in midtown, and I got on the elevator (after passing through a somewhat invasive strip search) and there’s a guy there in a red suit and a cap and he says, “What floor, sir?” And I say, “21, please.” And he proceeds to hit the 21 button for me. I don’t want to be too presumptuous here, but I’m pretty sure I could have done that.

You know in the old days you needed a guy running your elevator because it had that big handle and the manual door. You could control the speed. And you had to gauge when to stop. It was like a piece of farm equipment. People like you and me couldn’t be trusted with that kind of heavy machinery. I for one would inevitably get my finger caught in something. And forget it if you came home drunk. Could you imagine trying to figure that whole contraption out when you’re loaded?. You end up speeding and crashing through the attic or something. You'd need to get elevator insurance.

But nowadays elevators are pretty easy to operate. Some might call them intuitive—others might call them, brainless. You wanna go to 16, you push the little round button with the “16” on it—and it lights up. I’m no Einstein, but I can figure it out…On the list of things that I might need to operate in the course of my day, computer, cell phone, car, iPod, DVR—the elevator is pretty low on the difficulty scale.

And another thing. Are you supposed to tip an elevator guy? What would be an appropriate tip for a guy who sits on a stool and pushes numbered buttons? The door man or the bell hop—that’s a job title I can figure out. They carry your bags, they relieve you of a burden. I appreciate that—that’s helpful to me. They deserve some sort of monetary thanks. But there’s no burden in pushing a button. Even if it’s like really high on the button panel.