Agoraphobic Outing: Raw Recovery Specialist
Today was a bad outing, and an excellent example of why I cannot abide being in Public, and it is The Public.
St Paul’s Hospitals Elevators are the most miserable in all of the buildings of the Downtown Core of Vancouver, and I have been in a lot of those buildings.
My Mom and I waited on the 5th floor and there are only 2 elevators that connect to the parking lot and one was out of service.
There is a bank of 5 elevators, and 2 have been permanently out of order for the last 2 years with the other 3 often on the blink, out of service.
The Elevator with the Flashing Service Code opened onto the lobby and there were 2 technicians working on it, and I looked because it was the first time I had seen maintenance or repairs being done on that site.
The younger man, hispanic began the rote apology, and I cut him off, saying it’s self evident and no need to explain that these are the most miserable elevators in the city.
He suggested we ride the other elevators to the 1 st floor and then wait there to catch the elevator were were presently waiting for.
The other man tried to stop him from speaking and to focus on the work.
But this asinine and riduclous solution that only serves to increase frustration, was not going unanswered.
“It hardly matters which floor we wait on.”
“But but I was only trying to help.” he sputtered, getting angry.
“Stupid solutions are not help; and you have no business being offended for your unsought advice being rejected.”
It was an miserable incident, being in a busy junction on the 5th floor hospital wards.
Now, before I finish the story, I wish to better visually set the scene.
The elevator door opened and 2 men looked at my boobs. The Older One, saw the “Pink Sheep of the family” T-shirt I put on this morning and went back to work after his sneaky peek and remained socially harmless.
The younger man told my boobs about manly elevator man tricks and he became confused when there was a different emotional tone and response than he was used to getting from big boobed women. or women. most women giggle because there is no need for actual answer and it can serve both as an encouragement or disincentive, depending on delivery.
The older man, knowing his place in the order of things as an elevator repair guy and the younger man thinking this is a skilled trade of respect.
What neither of them knew was that in my past career, guys like their bosses asked to take me to lunches to secure contract bids. I understand facilities management.
“I worked here” he said, trying to find a shred of authority.
“Oh really?” I replied, “If St Pauls has permanent maintenance staff, then they have no excuse to have had these elevators in such poor service. Most buildings management companies outsource.”
It was the management speak that got their attention to my face and off my boobs.
At this point, both men shut up, closed the doors and moved to another floor.
It is lucky we ended the patient visiting time with 20 mins to get to the parkade, because it was almost 25 mins before we got to the car. So I don’t appreciate the hospital grinding parking fees in an unsupervised lot with pay kiosks and no staff with elevator throttling.
this is the location of worst nightmare and having maintenance staff inappropriately interacting with patient families – the customer – is not acceptable.
The building is old and does not serve the purpose and the historic value is dubious compared to earthquake proofing old brickwork and mortar.
Mostly, I am tired of people who want to help and then get angry when it is unwelcome,
I am tired of people who start sentences with “If I were you” or just jump to a suggestion so patently foolish on it’s face that it shouldn’t have to come out their lips to hear how stupid it sounds.
the problem is that the world is zero sum, and so few know how to de-escalate.