09:47. I pressed the button, watched the red “1” glow on the floor map, and heard the hum of a diesel engine far too close for comfort. The lift was back in service again – sort of. It stopped three floors up, the doors opened part-way, and Carmen from the third floor stepped out, clutching her groceries like she’d just escaped a limbo game.
It tends to happen on Tuesdays. Half the week gone already, half-finished repairs leaving the building feeling like a set of stairs with bad attitude. The meeting minutes say “investigate motor replacement” and “request quote once we have two bids”. Meanwhile the door seals still flap in the draft, the alarm button goes silent when you hold it, and the smell is a mix of overheated circuit and old laundrette.
I shared the corridor with Manuel from floor two, waiting with his walking stick. He muttered that the last quote they got was “comical” and asked if I had a ladder they could borrow. I explained I did not. He said I should. Fair.
The lift company talks about “passenger flow optimisation” and “machine-learning predictive maintenance”. I talk about pressing 0 for ground forever then climbing the steps anyway. That difference? That’s where policy becomes stairwell.
We voted on insulation last month, solar shades next week, and the elevator by 2027 maybe. Meanwhile this one groans like it’s thinking about retirement. It doesn’t care that the building turns fifty next year. It only cares about the next stop.
In the stairwell I taped up the sheet saying: “Lift out of service 09:45-10:30”. It’s permanent enough. The hallways echoed with the sound of sighs and the low thump of steps on the old tiles. It’s not heroic. It’s everyday.
So if you’re riding a lift in one of those “sustainable tower” gloss-pages and you feel the doors shave your elbow, remember this: the glass is new, the lobby is sleek, the branding says resilient. But the wires in the shaft? They’re ordinary. The repairs? They’re endless.
What you can try in your block this week:
- Mark the times the lift fails: floor, moment, what you felt. Data bites back.
- Ask: when’s the last motor check? When’s the next? Get the minute-note.
- Suggest: at the next meeting instead of complaining, propose a short list of four quotes, not one. Someone has to push.
- While you wait: take the stairs once this week. You’ll feel the building in motion.
By Thursday the lift was working again. Somehow. The fan whined, the lights flicked, the sign flashed “OT” for overload though Carmen only had a small bag of carrots. We all looked away.
And upstairs, at five minutes past six, I heard the deep metallic clunk again. It was the kind of sound that makes you hold your breath and count your flight of stairs. On Wednesday we’ll schedule the meeting. On Thursday we’ll vote. On Friday I’ll ride the stairs for habit’s sake.
