Hold the Door, Please -
Some Thoughts on Elevators
BY DR. NURIT
ISRAELI
I remember the first time
I came to our newly
purchased North Shore
Towers apartment. I was
in the lobby, waiting with
a group of people to board
one of the three elevators
leading to our floor. Someone
pushed the button Up.
The button was lit, yet the
same person – obviously in
a hurry – pushed the button
again, then again, as if wanting
to make sure the button
had been pushed correctly,
or as if repeatedly pushing
the button would expedite
the arrival of his means of
vertical commute.
Once the elevator arrived,
a few of us shuffled in,
arranging ourselves around
the perimeters of the car.
One rider designated herself
in charge of the buttons,
courteously asking each
person which floor he/she
is headed to and pressing
the respective button.
It was on that first elevator
ride that I met a lovely
lady residing on the floor
above us. Realizing we were
newcomers, she offered us
the packing boxes she had
used when moving to NST
just a few months before.
We became instant friends.
Another neighbor, who
got off the elevator with
me, offered information
– everything I needed to
know about life on the 16th floor
of Building 2...
On the way down, the elevator
was crowded and stopped repeatedly.
I noticed the door being patiently
held open for new arrivals rushing
to catch a ride. On the third stop,
a rider declared: “This must be the
local.” Others nodded or smiled
in agreement. Carrying boxes, I
was asked about our move and
received suggestions as well as
offers of help. Elevators are a form
of public commons, and elevator
rides provide snippets of insight
into the culture of a community.
The dynamics of these first elevator
rides were an appealing window
into life at North Shore Towers.
In the 1960’s, Edward Hall, a
cultural anthropologist, initiated
the field of proxemics, the study
of human use of space. Proxemics
research explores the ways we
arrange ourselves in space, the
effects various spaces have on
behavior, and the impact of space
on nonverbal communication.
Elevators became a gold mine for
conducting psychological research
on human behavior in small spaces.
Seemingly, the task of taking an
elevator requires a simple rudimentary
set of actions: you push
a button to call an elevator, a door
opens, you enter, push your floor
button, ride, and exit. However,
from a psychological point of view,
it is more complex. After all, where
else do you have a random group
of people – in transition between
a here and a there, en
route to somewhere
else, crowded into a
tiny, windowless, metal
room, standing inches
apart, spending just a
few moments together,
then going on with their
lives, strangers as before
or intimately connected?
The close quarters
of an elevator cab do
compel some sense of
intimacy and there is a
plethora of social norms
that have been developed,
norms of interpersonal
coexistence:
You face the front of the
elevator once you enter,
never the back. You hold
the door for newcomers
trying to get in. You do
offer a quick hello or a
“have a nice day.” You
don’t try to squeeze into
an elevator that seems
fully occupied. You do
step off to let fellow riders
get out. You preserve
others’ personal space,
not standing too close.
You do not stare. You
do not conduct intimate
conversations on
your cell phone or with
significant others, and if
others do – you pretend
not to eavesdrop...
Yet there are exceptions,
like the repeat
button pushers pressing
the Up or Down button
more than once, especially
when in a hurry
(OK, I’ll admit: I have on occasion
done it myself...). We do know that
pressing a button repeatedly will
not speed things along. But still
– taking action, any action, may
create an illusion of control in situations
where we don’t have any.
When my daughter was a toddler,
she used to get impatient having to
sit on an airplane between boarding
and takeoff – waiting for the aircraft
to depart. To ease her discomfort,
I offered her a ‘secret method’ for
20 NORTH SHORE TOWERS COURIER ¢ June 2019