What makes you think that you can enter the elevator before I exit?

And the same goes for a store, a train carriage, getting on a bus, and anywhere that the exit and entrance are one and the same.

I've identified that a majority of these offenders happen to be old people. Yes old people, but old could be old to anyone as everyone judges these things differently. I'm referring to the older than me people who've recently retired and are on the cusp of frailty. No offence. I'm kinda salty having experienced this multiple times as I exit the public elevator at work. There's always some old couple lurking behind the elevator doors, waiting to jump in before you've had time to move your foot forward to leave the elevator on Car Park level 1. The doors open and they're stood directly in front without stepping aside to allow anyone to exit.

It's flipping annoying tbh [to be honest]!

I've always been taught to respect and honour the elders but c'mon, have some respect for me. It's as if you use your age as an entitlement to do whatever you please, whether it be pushing past people without saying excuse me or apologising, cutting to the front of the queue [never on my watch] or prolonging a visit to the ATM or Kiosk because you can't find your purse or wallet.

I wonder if your back being up to the wall and bulldozing through a packed elevator of people trying to exit, is some sort of protest for the years you've been overlooked, could it be a rebellious act of defiance or have you just not adjusted to your newly found status as pillars of our society who paid a working lifetime's worth of taxes and national insurance to pave the way for us?

My observations tell me that you've been conditioned to do that, after years of cut throat manoeuvring on London's transportation network. Your need to stake your claim before anyone else does is the result of years of trying to be at the front of the queue to secure your seat, to secure the space that makes it easier to interchange when the train stops. You're trapped in a commuters state of mind, living life at 150-commuting-mph. Your sheer desperation to get inside the elevator is the driving force and reassures you that you've still got 'it'. It being the cut throat attribute that sets you apart from the pack, a stone cold look of someone who gives zero fucks for anyone's feelings when you find the space between spaces on a packed train, walking through a busy shopping district or when you refuse to give your seat up for an elderly person or the commuter who wears a Baby On Board badge several weeks early.

This eagerness to get into the elevator before I exit could be a direct link to your inability to adapt as you approach a new phase of life, the slow part. You've recently retired and rather than sit at home watching Cash In The Attic, Saints & Scroungers, and Heir Hunters, you're out and about buying things you probably have five of, going to workshops at the Apple Store, and leaving extra early every morning to get shit done. Waking up early to you is what gives you life and purpose, making you feel as though you're still the high flying civil servant.

Maybe you rushing past everyone to get into the lift before anyone exits is your way of telling yourself you've still got that cut throat commuter instinct. It's become a game, a cut throat zero fucks sport of champions; it's about standing your ground, using your instincts and being decisive. Maybe I shouldn't really see it as being offensive but respect the game you're playing, ensuring I overlook the blatant disregard for social norms in favour of seeing an elevator athlete in the arena wielding their decisive prowess to enter the elevator before anyone else does.

It's got to the point where I'll start video taping all of my elevator journeys to show you some proof of this lament because as much as I can be petty sometimes, this is actually a thing.

Until next time, stay tuned...

Peace