Elevators and etiquette

I don't know if anyone else has seen the newest and horribly annoying Hall's cough drop TV commercial, but I'm thinking of writing Cadbury (their parent company) and telling them to keep their damn drops -- I'll be buying anything else but their brand this flu and cold season.

For those who have not seen the spot, let me provide a synopsis. A young man enters an elevator and pushes the button for his floor. On his way to his destination, other people enter the elevator (Horrors!). It seems our sloppily-dressed protagonist must share his space with others. Now mind you, as each new character enters the elevator carrying a plethora of items, our anti-hero stays glued to the center of the elevator. He does not even try to make room for others entering his space. Apparently, these other people are an affront to his desire for more room. So, he pops a Halls menthol drop in his mouth and this act is enough to plaster his spatial opponents (now in flattened formats) against the walls of the moving room. He stands smugly, still in the center, and now offers these deflated interlopers a drop.

My, but if he'd just been that courteous initially, he'd never needed to proffer his medicinal offerings. (And when did a cough drop jump from the shore of medicine to the desire for more space?)

Perhaps this commercial gets under my skin a little more than it should because of my college years. For three years, I lived in a nine story dorm. We all used the elevators frequently. The custom, at least for that part of North Carolina, was to allow all users to exit the elevator before anyone else entered. Step One in the rules of etiquette. When the elevator was unusually full, a kind-hearted soul would stay on and push the Open button until the elevator was empty and a new person could enter and resume her role. Step Two of elevator etiquette. If Step Two was not necessary, Step Three was. The first person to enter the elevator was to hold the doors open and then to enter the floor numbers as they were called while each person entered the elevator. This method provided a nice, courteous and orderly fashion to elevator ridership.

Occasionally, a non-courteous person would enter the elevator first, punch her button and then slouch to the side or stay in the center. This obvious lack of protocol would cause a breakdown in the whole system. The elevators would now close abruptly and leave everyone else waiting for the next elevator (or you could hurt yourself trying to manually stop the doors. Apparently, an electronic eye was too expensive for our institution to install.) The second worse offense would be if someone had already positioned herself in front of the button board and was taking orders upon entry. A rude person would enter and strike her needed button in the face of the person being courteous. Yes, it's rude to violate a person's space, it's rude to assume they don't speak English or understand numbers, and it's rude to assume she lacks the same manners as the offending person.

I don't want to say that such etiquette of elevator ridership exists throughout the South. I've neither lived nor visited every southern state in the union. Since Maryland is a state of mixed cultures, both courteous and rude riders share elevators often.

Displaying etiquette and kindness no longer seems to be a priority in our society. Oh, it still exists, particularly among people who know each other. But I don't want Hall's or Cadbury to push courtesy further down our list of priorities. I don't want Hall's pushing its drops on a public with a nod and wink, saying, "We know you don't want to share your elevator, your office, your town, or your country with those people. They're not good enough to share your space."

Perhaps if the young man had selected his button, retreated to the back of the elevator, and made room for the other riders, he'd still have a complete pack of Hall's menthol drops -- just in time for cold season. And I hope he gets a really nasty cold this year.