So I brought salad fixings into work, but decided I wanted a little something salty to go with it; hence I trekked away from the desk to which I am generally shackled en voyage to CVS in order to purchase some chippy comestibles.
I boarded the elevator on the sixth floor at the same time as this perky little guy that I could tell was an elevator chitchatterer. But, as is has been so amply documented in my online history that I'm sure there's no level of NSA agent who doesn't know this: I really hate banal elevator chitchat. I have, therefore, developed an anti-chitchat body language jujitsu so formidable that I have yet to encounter the chitchat ninja who can broach it. I am chitchat proof.
This is also handy on airplanes.
The elevator door opened on the fourth floor, and a dude gets on carrying some bags from this place.
Chit chat ninja spies an opportunity! "Those look heavy!" he commiserates.
The other guy, who clearly feels the way I do about elevator chitchat but whose own jujitsu has been hampered by his parcels just shakes his head. Waits for a second. Then says:
"Well, maybe you couldn't carry it."
It was the meanest anti-chitchat jujitsu I've ever seen deployed and I am a woman who once countered a "Sure is cold out there" with "It's winter in Chicago."
Made me chuckle though. I should step away from my desk more.
Still, poor perky little chitchatterer. It's tough when feelings become the collateral damage in the elevator chitchat wars.
