It’s not as hard as you think; I’ve discovered a shortcut. Simply board the elevator of your choice — home or office, medical complex — press the button for your desired floor and exit when the door opens.
That’s it. That’s all there is to making new friends and meeting new people. Because, very often, the door opens on a floor you hadn’t intended to visit. A floor you’re a stranger to. A floor where you stand out like a sore thumb. Quick thinking and deft social skills come in very handy when you show up in the wrong place.
You see, I live on the top floor of an 11-story building. When I get on the elevator, I push the correct button and, as far I’m concerned, my job is done. The rest is up to the elevator. Other people, of course, push other buttons, ‘3’ or ‘7,’ ‘up’ or ‘down’. Yet, when the door opens, I don’t think, I exit.
The floor number is irrelevant. The hallways look the same and that’s what counts. I follow my usual route and land at the door I think is mine, although it has strange decorations and a welcome mat I’ve never laid eyes on. I stick my key in the lock, anyway, and when it doesn’t work, I’m flummoxed. So I step back, I look at the nameplate and, all right, who changed the name on the nameplate?
Reality is slow to dawn.
Cognizance is a mysterious thing, you know? I can recall every lurid detail of every idiotic stunt I’ve ever pulled, but have no awareness of where I am or what I’m doing. Or how many scoops of coffee I’ve put in the filter or where I left my keys. Instead of scheduling a CT scan, I look upon these lapses as plot twists. They make life interesting. Besides, who doesn’t love a good surprise every now and again?
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