Not "The Guy"

Well...I wasn't the guy.  I wasn't the guy who got stuck in the stairwell, unable to key into the hallway to exit the stairs because I dropped my security card and kicked it out the door as it slammed shut behind me (http://www.justalilblog.com/2015/02/secure.html).  No...that guy was my boss.  And it didn't happen in the stairwell.  It was the elevator.

Using the new system he got on the elevator on the fourth floor to a meeting on the fifth floor (I don't know why he wasn't using the stairs...don't judge).  The doors slid smoothly shut and he passed his security card in front of the sensor.  It beeped and turned green and he stabbed at the "5".  Nothing happened. 

He swiped his card again.  Again the sensor beeped and changed from red to green.  He pushed the button for the fifth floor once more, and once more nothing happened.  That was when he attempted to exit the elevator and realized he wasn't authorized to exit elevators...only enter them. 

A moment or two later a coworker, pushing the button to go 'up' outside the elevator opened the doors, and my boss was allowed to leave the elevator he'd entered. 

He's currently using my security card in an attempt to attend his fifth floor meeting.  I've been told to stay at my desk for the next 30 minutes in case he needs assistance.

Good system.

Going up

Emma's on day three of her grievous knee injury.  Not to make light of it...because she is injured, and a doctor with a medical degree and everything diagnosed her with "Maybe a knee sprain". 

This elicited a scoff of indignation from Emma who I think was holding out for something more serious, more 'interesting'..."*Maybe* a sprain.  What's that?"  Her "maybe" dripped with sarcasm so effortlessly thick I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride.  Suspicion of medical profession?  Check.

She'd been told she could ditch the crutches whenever she felt comfortable without them, but she decided that her first day back at school she needed them.  I suspect, however, that it was because she felt the presence of crutches would aid her plea to use ...the school elevator.

She got a key to the elevator yesterday.  She's allowed to take two friends with her for "safety reasons". 

This morning she came down without the crutches and told me she was going to try to do school today without them.  I argued that she should wait until this weekend.  We compromised.  She's took the crutches to school but will stash them in her locker unless she needs them. 

"They'll fit in your locker?" I asked skeptically.
"Stand up," she replied.
I stood. 
"You're my locker."
I stood stiffer and straighter.  She reached for the handle, imagining where it might be, then holding the crutches up in front of me.  She touched my forehead measuring it as the height of the locker. 
"Click."
She looked at me.  "What was that?"
"I'm a locker.  I clicked when you touched me.  I'm getting into my role."
She rolled her eyes at me.  "Yeah, they'll fit," she said.

I drove her to the bus stop.  She felt ready to ride the bus today too.  Yesterday she didn't think that would work.  Today things are looking up. 

For me too.  I'm more myself again.  Back to even keel.  Chipper.  Going up, feeling better.  My emotional elevator, Emma's leg, and the school's elevator...all heading to the top floor once more.