ETERNAL SECURITY

I can’t walk into an elevator without rubbing my fanny on the buttons.  Wait… re-read… Yes, it’s true.

A few years ago the building where I work implemented security measures.  All employees have to have a key card.  It’s not like I work in fort Knox or anything – but we’re a state-wide religious organization so it’s possible any kook could show up at any time. 

Upon arrival to the building before or after regular hours, the key card will open the gate (drawbridge) into the complex.  After parking in the garage, the keycard will alert the first door of the building to open. But don’t pull on the handle. That might damage the machinery.  Then there’s a second door to pass through into the holy of holies … a quick scan there and you’re in the basement.  But wait, there’s more. You can get on the elevator. But you can’t go anywhere without your key card.  Waive the magical rectangle in front of the sensor and then you’re cleared for take-off.

It took us all a while to get used to the new security plan.  I began to wonder what other areas we could employ this wonderful technology.  Scan the coffee maker – you only get one cup a day and then you’re locked out - or worse, the yogurt machine.  Scan to get in the bathroom – or to dispense toilet paper.  With this economy and all…

So what does this have to do with rubbing my fanny on elevator buttons? 

When the key cards were distributed there were three options for convenient usage of the card.  First, you may wear it on a lanyard around your neck.  This seems to be the accessory of choice for public school teachers, but not so much where I work.  Second, you could use one of those handy retractable tether things.  Many use this method – but don’t let it slip out of your hands or you’ll get a nasty recoil on you that will leave a mark.  Most of the men just simply leave the key card in their wallet.

THE GLUTE GLIDE: Upon entry to the building, I (and many of my colleagues) simply address the sensor with our left or right cheek (depending on your preference).  We wait for the beep and then the door magically opens.  

THE HEINIE HOIST: The second door poses a bit of an issue for some.  The sensor is mounted about 6 inches higher.  So many men reach behind them and do the ol’ pocket lift.  With your wallet still firmly in your back pocket, you just lift the bottom until the sensor finds what it needs.  It looks like you’ve got an itch, but it gets the job done.  However, I’m a bit taller than most so I can simply turn around, hike up a hip and stretch to my tip-toes and make the sensor happy.  This move is reminiscent of being on an imaginary stair-climber.

Finally, to the elevator.  First off – no one ever faces INTO the elevator while they are riding.  Proper protocol demands you enter, select your floor and then face the doors – anticipating your quick departure from the climbing or descending vessel.  Failing to do so causes panic on the part of the other passengers.  It’s must be what a prisoner feels when his cell is about to be ‘tossed’.

THE RUMP RUB:  But remember, you have to scan your card to go anywhere.  So most of us wallet carriers have gotten into the habit of walking toward the buttons, turning around and sort of – rubbing our booties on the scanner until it beeps.  Then we turn back around and select our floor.  It’s like when a cat rubs up against you (uninvited).

Unfortunately though, like Pavlov’s dogs, I do this IN ANY ELEVATOR. SCANNER OR NO SCANNER.  Hotels, rump rub, button push.  Hospitals, rump rub, button push. Barnes and Noble, rump rub, button push. 

Everybody’s used to it at work.  Nobody looks at you weird.  They do at the hospital.   So if you come visit me at work, stop by the front desk. They’ll give you a loaner key card to get around.  How you wear it is up to you – but be advised, some methods may cause undesirable side-effects.