HOW FUCKING DARE YOU TELL ME HOW TO BE POLITE.
i came home today, pushed the button in the parking lot to get up to my apartment.
the doors opened to reveal three men and a full shopping cart of flattened cardboard.
i wasn't paying attention to where the elevator had come from.. downstairs in B2 or from the ground floor upstairs.
so the doors opened.
none of the three men moved.
they stood as one would stand in a bar, crowded over a skinny tall table with a bowl of peanuts atop.
so i asked "going up?"
i proceeded to walk in.
"letting us out would be the polite thing to do" one of the men in a striped apron said.
"WELL NONE OF YOU WERE MOVING SO I ASSUMED YOU WERE GOING UP LIKE I ASKED" i replied, albeit in a normal tone of voice. the voice in my head on the other hand.. it was exacerbating a pre-existing headache that had refused to leave me alone all week.
telling me about manners.
why don't you try some introspection and reply to a question like any other normal courteous person would.
so not the week to test my temper i tell you. so not.