Control

One thing I will never, ever understand is why almost every person in the world will approach an already-pressed, already-lighted elevator button . . . and press it again, often repeatedly. It doesn't matter if it's the up/down panel outside the doors, or the select-your-floor panel inside. A stunningly high number of people take that extra step when someone else has already completed the task.

Why? Why, why, WHY???

When you think of it, it's kind of insulting to the initial button-presser, who is usually present. The second person to press the button is expressing to the initial button-presser that:

1. The elevator is not going to listen to Initial.
2. Initial somehow did not press the button well enough.
3. Second can press the button better than Initial.

Or maybe Second has a total inferiority complex, an exhausting paranoia of being ignored, and needs to feel important in any way he can . . . in other words, he presses the button again to assert control. As so many people do in so many ways: press the button to assert control.

Control is really an amazing concept. We fight for it every day, during every interaction. Example: your boss asserts control over you by assigning you a task. You, in turn, ask your boss for clarification, so you can assert control over the task itself by enhancing your understanding of the task, which in theory contributes to your confidence in completing it.

Control drives us. The human spirit is competitive, often self-serving, and always striving for more . . . and what is behind all these traits? A desire for power, domination, control. We live in an ever-rebalancing equilibrium between feeling like masters of our universes and feeling like peons. The old moth-windshield analogy, if you will. Obviously, we feel our best when we are the windshield, and I don't mean that in a pejorative way. We feel good when we get it right. When we get it right, we are in control. And if being in control, getting it right, feels good and makes you happy, then you should be able to enjoy it.

Of course, some people take it too far. They ruin it for everyone. So sometimes the Universe (God, if you will) has to knock you down a peg to remind you that you are a guest in this world, subject to its moods and fluctuations, and even if you are CEO, boss, head of household, or even in control of just one other person (partner or child) . . . you can still die behind the wheel of your car on an ordinary day. You can build dams, tall buildings, even supersafe bridges . . . and one earthquake, 19 fanatic terrorists, or the wrong combination of physics can destroy what you created in an attempt to control and dominate the Earth you live on.

The best things in life are the things we cannot control: beautiful sunsets, lightning bugs in the woods, mountains and trees and the ocean. And the endless amusement that humans provide. We are quirky, often downright funny, and our little nuances are truly a gift.

So if I cannot control my laughter the next time a Second starts frantically pressing a button that was already competently activated by an Initial, I will thank God for that quirkiness. And the Second will watch me laughing and either:

A. Smile and wonder at my own quirkiness, or
B. Realize what I'm laughing at and laugh at himself, or
C. Become enraged at his lack of control over both the elevator and my response to him and press the button again.

Because he cannot help it.