On being trapped in a revolving door with a monumental grannie
It's been a while since I posted anything here as I've been a tad on the busy side, but I feel I have to share this experience. It's traumatised me for a week now and I feel getting down on paper, or even on a blog, will be a soothing process.
Picture the scene. There I am walking into work, minding my own business. I may even have been whistling a jaunty tune, who knows, but all was well with the world.
I arrive at our offices to find a rather large older lady trying to push the revolving doors the wrong way. I could have nipped in the side door but I thought I'd be a good samaritan and so said, 'You're pushing it the wrong way, my love.' She waddled back, slightly red in the face from her exertion and replied, 'You go first, dear, you'll know what you're doing.' So I step into the little compartment and start pushing. With no warning the woman shoots into the same segment of the revolving door with me. It's a bit of a squeeze but I think, don't worry, it'll be over soon. For some reason she stops walking and so the entire contraption comes to a shuddering halt. There we are trapped in the door and before I know she panics and tries to push the other way again. So there I am trying to shove us out of this claustrophobic situation with the full weight of an stocky grannie holding us back and little room to even breathe - a feat made even more difficult by the fact that she seemed to have applied her sickly lavender perfume with a fireman's house that morning. At first I'm polite but after 20 seconds of wrestling with the doors I lose my rag and snap at her to let me do it.
After what seems like a century or two she gives in and I manage to push the door around until I can pop out, a frazzled, sweaty shadow of the cheerful chappy I'd been just ten minutes earlier. To add insult to injury my guilt gland kicked in and I found myself apologising for snapping. Thankfully she wobbled off to talk to wake up the security guard who sleeps behind our front desk and I could jump into the lift. Thankfully the doors shut before she could attack me in there too.
Unfortunately, the work colleagues who witnessed my trial by revolving door are still chuckling about it to this day, but for me its the stuff of nightmares. I haven't used the revolving door since.
There, that feels better. Thank you for listening.
Picture the scene. There I am walking into work, minding my own business. I may even have been whistling a jaunty tune, who knows, but all was well with the world.
I arrive at our offices to find a rather large older lady trying to push the revolving doors the wrong way. I could have nipped in the side door but I thought I'd be a good samaritan and so said, 'You're pushing it the wrong way, my love.' She waddled back, slightly red in the face from her exertion and replied, 'You go first, dear, you'll know what you're doing.' So I step into the little compartment and start pushing. With no warning the woman shoots into the same segment of the revolving door with me. It's a bit of a squeeze but I think, don't worry, it'll be over soon. For some reason she stops walking and so the entire contraption comes to a shuddering halt. There we are trapped in the door and before I know she panics and tries to push the other way again. So there I am trying to shove us out of this claustrophobic situation with the full weight of an stocky grannie holding us back and little room to even breathe - a feat made even more difficult by the fact that she seemed to have applied her sickly lavender perfume with a fireman's house that morning. At first I'm polite but after 20 seconds of wrestling with the doors I lose my rag and snap at her to let me do it.
After what seems like a century or two she gives in and I manage to push the door around until I can pop out, a frazzled, sweaty shadow of the cheerful chappy I'd been just ten minutes earlier. To add insult to injury my guilt gland kicked in and I found myself apologising for snapping. Thankfully she wobbled off to talk to wake up the security guard who sleeps behind our front desk and I could jump into the lift. Thankfully the doors shut before she could attack me in there too.
Unfortunately, the work colleagues who witnessed my trial by revolving door are still chuckling about it to this day, but for me its the stuff of nightmares. I haven't used the revolving door since.
There, that feels better. Thank you for listening.
Labels: Incidents on the way into work
Read more...
posted by Cav at
8:22 AM
|
0 comments
