Good job, Mrs. Anonymous

I mentioned in my 100 things about me that I have a pet peeve about people rushing on the elevator ahead of me, and now I'll tell a little story.

Whenever I go to Park Plaza to shop, I can expect that I will at some point be sitting and waiting for an elevator for minutes, only to have it arrive, and people who are perfectly capable of taking the stairs fill it up, leaving me to wait again. It happens especially frequently over Christmas, and this year seemed worse than ever. On one occasion I was waiting when a healthy-looking woman walked up with her healthy-looking son (at this point I might mention that by "healthy-looking" I mean they didn't look as if they had missed any meals, not that they looked all that healthy.) I heard the woman say to her son, "WE ARE NOT TAKING THE STAIRS" and sure enough, when the elevator arrived, they were the first 2 to pile on. I had HAD it and muttered, "EXCUSE YOU," and the conversation deteriorated.

After that, I made a vow to myself that I would keep my mouth shut no matter how frustrated I got, because voicing my opinion on these occasions could only really get me in trouble. So a couple of weeks ago, when I was waiting on the elevator, and a group of about 5 very big young men walked right past me and filled up the elevator, I was biting my tongue very hard (especially because these guys looked as if they might belong in a gang) and resigned myself to waiting on the next car.

It was at that moment that the most unexpected thing happened... after getting on the elevator and turning around, one of the guys saw me and said, "Dude, we need to get off and let her ride," and all of the young men marched right back off the elevator and let me ride.

I was pleasantly surprised, to say the least, and I told them thank you, that they were very nice, but I am still thinking about how these young men, who I had shamefully prejudged, showed me so much respect and consideration. At the time, I wished that I had known their mothers so I could tell them that they had raised their boys well, but since I don't know them, I will say it now, "Good job, Mrs. Anonymous."