Skip to main content

Elevator ride

We’ve all heard of “elevator speech” as a term for a sales pitch you can give in a short time. Many MoveIn-ers* mention the elevator as an opportunity to get to know people. In a building that has some 20 floors and but a few slow – and, at times, idiosyncratic – elevators, it’s not a cliché that things can happen on an elevator.

Waiting in a lobby that kept filling and emptying of people, after passing up 3 opportunities to ride due to perceived overcrowding, I was rewarded with a near-empty elevator – until a crowd piled in with kids and strollers. Talking gregariously amongst themselves in a Slavic language, they were headed for the upper floors. The rest of us, however, did not live so lofty.

Floor 6: “Excuse me!” The lady from the far corner needs to get out. The crowd at the front shifts affably, partly disembarks, the woman steps out, and the rest pile back in, laughing and conversing all the while.

Floor 8: Huh? No one moves until a small “excuse me” comes from below. They chuckle amongst themselves at the Canadski as they shift again to let off the small boy earlier concealed in the back corner.

At Floor 9, the routine has become uproariously funny. I extricate myself from the back corner and bid farewell to my new friends.

There was such a spirit of goodwill in that elevator. Though we didn’t speak the same language, and our time together was short, we made a connection. It was the most fun I’ve had in an elevator.

*see MB Herald article to come, December 2009

Comments

Dora Dueck said…
I love this story about "elevator speech" -- at its best!

Popular posts from this blog

My favourite nativity scene

“There’s no accounting for taste.” That’s my dad’s favourite way of explaining personal tastes that are incomprehensible to him, like living downtown, and riding bike in winter. The inexplicable factors which determine an individual’s likes or dislikes are probably the only way I can explain why my favourite nativity scene contains a horribly caricatured black magus, a random adoring child attired – to my fancy – like a Roma person, an old shepherd carrying some sort of blunderbuss. And a haloed holy family with an 18-month-old baby Jesus. This is the "Christmas Manger Set – the Christmas story in beautiful cut-out scenes and life-like figures." See how the 1940s-era family admires the realistic flourishes, like raw wood beams and straw protruding from the edge of the roofline; the rough, broken wood of the stalls; the tasselled camels; the richly dressed magi; the woolly sheep; the Bethlehemites on the path in the background, ostensibly out to get water, judging...

Upside down economics of Jesus: household action and global change

--Presented at a CAWG event in Altona -- In Living More with Less , Doris Janzen Longacre shares a story about envelopes from Marie Moyer, a missionary in India, who was studying Hindi with Panditji. Marie writes: “From his philosophic mind, which probed the meaning of events and circumstances, I learned more than Hindi.” Just before her teacher’s arrival one day before Christmas, she’d received and opened a pile of Christmas cards and discarded the envelopes as he walked in the room. She writes: “He sat down soberly and studied the situation, then he solemnly scolded me: ‘the reverberation of this wasteful act will be felt around the world’.” Marie was stunned. “What do you mean?” she asked him. “Those envelopes,” he said, pointing to the wastebasket. “You could write on the inside of them.” “Chagrined”, Marie apologized and rescued the envelopes with the help of Panditji, who “caressed each one” as he pulled it out of the garbage. This forever changed Marie’s relationship to p...

Broken people...

After reflecting with one coworker on how often churches in all their forms really mess up and hurt a whole bunch of people in the process -- and how "we gotta do better" -- I stumbled into another conversation with a coworker which highlighted our brokenness, and I suddenly realized what was wrong with my take in the first. I wanted the church to be better at fixing our mistakes, or better yet, at not making them in the first place. But maybe this "fix-it" attitude is partly the reason we keep blowing it again and again! My friend recollected an experience when a church community was in a terrible place: compounded mistakes, hurts, and frustrations had blown up, spewing pain all over all parties. (I'm sure anyone with a long history in the church can think of one, if not several, such occasions in their past.) A new Christian who observed all these goings on responded in an unexpected way. Instead of "you people are a bunch of screw-ups! How could this pos...