You're young and robust
Going to the second floor?
Take the effing stairs
(If you're like me, you work on an upper floor of one of those
fabulous Cold War-era government buildings that was never meant to
accommodate as much elevator traffic in a day as it sees in an hour.
After waiting for 15 minutes for an elevator that's apparently powered
by a hamster in a wheel, I don't understand why the strapping young
lad who waited next to me disembarks at the second floor. And yes, I
know that not all disabilities are readily apparent. I'm not
completely heartless.)
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