As the year draws to an end, one staffer reflects on his tumultuous relationship with the Carman elevators.

I want to tell you I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever done to you- but I think you owe me an apology too. Let me explain.

Yes, I know how to push your buttons- all of them, in fact, and I’ve done it often. But I just want you to know that that’s never been with the intent of hurting you, but just taking out my frustrations and impulsiveness on an available target. Whether it’s just pressing “basement” even though I’m getting off on the first floor to go to class during the day and getting a little thrill of schadenfreude, or drunkenly pressing every single button on a Friday night and reveling in the chaos I’ve inflicted on the world- I never thought about how it hurt you, and I’m working to change.

And while I’ve never dragged chairs or tables into you, I did once do something perhaps even worse, when I moved chairs that someone else had put in you to block your doors and disabled both elevators in the course of a single trip to the vending machine. Was that cruel? Yes, but here’s where we need to talk about the pain you’ve caused me over this last year- because that incident wasn’t just chaotic impulsiveness or misanthropy (only partially), but also rooted in my abiding fear of and rage towards you.

Without fail, whenever I have somewhere to be, you let me down. Whether it’s a class that starts in three minutes, a party I’m late to, or even just picking up a food delivery, you take your sweet time coming to help me. I know you’re capable of impressive speed, but whenever I’m in a hurry it seems like you intentionally drag your feet, open your doors more slowly. Sometimes you even fully break down and make me take the stairs, which really seems like cutting off your nose to spite your face. If you’re mad and have something to say to me, say it to my fucking face instead of keeping this petty bullshit up.

It’d also be nice if you could take a little better care of your personal hygiene. I get that everyone here seems depressed and over-scheduled, and it’s easy to let yourself go a little bit in that kind of environment, but for God’s sake… you’ve gone right off the deep end at this point. Some of the things I’ve encountered in you include vomit and various other liquids, powders, or other substances all over your floors and walls, students with highly contagious diseases, unidentified things on your ceiling (alien eggs? puke icicles? wasp larvae?), furniture, flyers and papers in various stages of being torn down- you get the point. Even if you didn’t have carpeted floors it’d be a bridge too far, and given that you do, I think you need to take responsibility for keeping them at an appropriate level of cleanliness.

None of this is to say we never had good times- when I was drunk and just needed to get back to my room at 4 AM, or wanted a post-lunch nap before my afternoon classes, or was carrying a huge thing of laundry, you were there for me. But the good, unfortunately, doesn’t cancel out the bad, and we need to finally be honest with one another about what’s been going on besides the good times.

In conclusion, we’ve both hurt each other in our time together, and whether or not you feel ready to give me an apology, I’m sorry for the role I played in establishing this dynamic between us. I think next year, we should take some time apart to try and heal- both of us need to move on to new things.

Den of madness via Bwarchives