Jump but time it perfectly......

The building in which I work isn't especially old, but isn't always maintained as well as those of us who work in it might like. It's a five story building and every picture tells a story, don't it? Sorry. The preceding attempt at humor was made possible by a grant from the Rod Stewart Wastrel Fund (he was once called Rod the Mod. Memo to trousers: you're out of here).

We have massive stairs made from slabs of slate or kryptonite (Jor-El has an office on the third floor and spends a lot of time looking through the walls out into the hallway) or some natural wonder that no one dares wax because if you slip and hit your head, you're toast and then a ghost. I have been told the stairs were hand chiseled as single pieces to fit the dimensions of the stairwells. I keep seeing Michelangelo chipping away at these itty-bitty pieces of marble because 'they don't look like David' and wonder if I walk with a limp because someone is pulling my leg.

Speaking of which, because I have Steve Austin loaner knees, and am now older than dirt, I no longer bound up the stairs every morning, like an outtake of Release the Hounds when I first started working here in aught 91 (you do the math, smartie), but head instead for the Johnny and Shuggie vertical conveyance of convenience.

But for the last two weeks or so, the elevator has been Hal to everyone else's Dave, as opposed to just being Hal David (I can't help it. I've got the music in me). It stops at random floors and often between floors, or starts to open the doors before it has stopped. Since I tend to leave my helmet out in the car, entry through the emergency airlock is not really an option (and I think it, too, must be out in the car) so many of us spend most of the day trudging up and down the majestic stairs stopping at each landing to see if this might be where the elevator is chillin', usually greeted by a bright white glowing light from the elevator button where another trudger sought to summon it, but failed.

The repairman has been out numerous times (= I don't how many) and last time he was here, the elevator worked flawlessly, while he was here. Tuesday, I watched him backing the repair truck out of a parking space while hearing a colleague down the hall curse the elevator that knew Elvis had left the building.

I'll say this-you think twice about 'running an errand, I'll be right back' to another floor when you won't be right back, or if you are, you're all winded and wobbly. Productivity has skyrocketed since we stay at our desks. I heard a rumor that we're selling off the stairs to somebody with a big state or a large country with enough space so they don't get in the way. If that happens, I'm making sure I have an extra locking carabiner in my desk drawer. I'll keep the other one in the boot of my car, along with my helmet; just in case I find that airlock.

-bill kenny