Introducing "Elevator Shafts".

Or, the cast of characters and the comments I'm subject to overhear in the elevator. The ones that talk the most are the ones with the most to prove, the self-important business types who travel from floor to floor every morning. When two of these types get together, it's a lot like watching dogs pee on every fire hydrant or pole they encounter.

And writing about all the useless things they say could keep me busy for months.

Our story begins outside Elevator Number One. It's 9:02am. I am standing next to a Building Sasquatch, or someone who has been described to me many times before by trusted co-workers yet I have never sighted the Office Space Oddity myself. Like Loch Ness or a UFO or an episode of the Brady Bunch that is not entirely gooby, they might not exist until you see them for yourself.

No, it was not the fabled super-toxic smoking duo of Fatman and Robin. Nor was it the Redneck Camaro Driver who always parks backwards and sideways in the basement corner. It was the pregnant-bellied computer dude who wears stretchy demin pants that get tiny and tight at the cuff as he chugalugs Diet Coke out of a 126 oz. refillable plastic jug with bendable flexy straw.

Legend says it's definitely Diet Coke in there since he's often been spotted carrying a case of it with him.

To me, his cup looks more the size of a small wastepaper basket. Whether he has cheesecake batter or a pulverized brownie shake in his sippy-jug, he appears to be a Gentle Giant. Until possibly, you make a move for one of his action figures.

Ding one, the elevator cometh. The Diet Coke Giant politely steps back and lets me in first. Inside I assume my usual elevator stance, leaning against the right wall, crossing one foot over the other, and casting my eyes downward in silent meditation.

How many other people will get on? Hopefully not many. I like my elevator rides like I like my driving: getting green lights all the way with everyone staying three car-lengths back. Today, it's one of those typical days when it's not the quantity of the people getting on that annoy me, it's the quality.

Ding two, The Diet Coke Giant gets off on Floor Three. Yep, the Info Tech floor, I think. My brain quietly bids him a good day.

Ding three, two guys get on from Floor Four. One is a Smarmy Business Gloat and the other a Young Thin Lackey hopping around the Gloat, in hopes of impressing him.

(Note: If you've ever seen the Looney Tunes characters Spike and Chester, imagine that scenario here. )

Lackey (holding door for Gloat): "... he is an inCREDible speaker! Just inCREDible!..."

Gloat (booms):"... yyYESss... he is... AWEsome..."

Lackey: "HaveyoureadhisBOOK?! YouHAVEtoreadhisbook, ask Jason... JASON'llgiveittoyou, ask Jason –"

Gloat: "I started to read his book. It was boring."

Lackey (nervous laughing): "yeahyeah heheh, he's a MUCH better speaker than a writer yeahyeah... ask Jason! Ask Jason, he had PIZZA with the guy.... Pizza.... with NADER!"

Gloat (bloats up to posture): "Yeah well I had STEAK with him once."

Lackey: "I'm not SAYing that you DIDN'T..."

(awkward pause here, but I think I heard the Gloat king his own man in checkers)

Gloat (visibly puffing himself up, gripping his briefcase handle tighter) "Well, I PERsonally didn't LIKE having dinner with NADER. I had steak and he had asparagus... he's depressing because he says everything is bad for you...."

Ding four, they both saunter off the elevator. The marble halls amplify the Gloat's booming to sonic boomish.

One final ding. I've come to my floor. It's 9:09 am, and the Ralph Nader who invented the seatbelt sometimes eats pizza but prefers asparagus to steak, and managed to write one more boring book than the Gloat will ever read or write. Ah yes. Let another workday begin.