Of the lesser-known hotel phenomena, one of the most interesting to observe is the that of the passive-aggressive floor gloat. It’s not always completely obvious, but be alert and you can spot it more or less every time you get in the lift/elevator with other people.
Generally, the higher the floor you have to go to, the swankier your room will be, and so letting people know that you’re on a higher floor than them, and therefore a better person in every conceivable way, is an art form, not one that your humble narrator gets to practise too much, though, let him assure you.
I do suffer from near-crippling floor envy, though, so I feel I can speak on this subject with some authority. The seasoned Floor Gloater, residing in a suitably high ranking floor, will hang back in the lobby and let the masses enter the lift first. Then they will wait, sometimes until the doors are closing, not doing anything in the hope that someone asks them which floor they need. They can then announce it loudly to the entire lift, ensuring that the people at the back, who may have missed the nuances of button pressing, are completely up to speed with the floor number involved.
If they are not asked which floor they would like, then Plan B comes into effect. This does involve button pressing, but with such a flourish that anyone sharing the confines of the lift would be hard pressed not to notice the superior ranking. A forefinger demonstratively going up and down the panel of possible numbers a few times usually suffices, though the more brazen might sometimes throw in a rhetorical “Now, what was my floor again…?” just to make sure.
The Floor Gloater’s worst nightmare is gambling on the superiority of a floor that is only second or third from the top. Imagine the humiliation of having gone through the above process, and then seeing the crowds disperse at their inferior heights, only for one person to remain, entering their floor only on the way up. This someone is somehow on the very highest floor, someone who, in the assurance that they could not be trumped, held back until the last possible minute to assert dominance.
This is the work of a true Floor Gloating Artist, executing a very specific and crushing floor victory over the would-be Floor Pretender, the plebs on the lowlier floors not even worthy of seeing this elite punishment being doled out. Had they even witnessed it (having missed their floor and having to wait for the car to go down again), its significance would surely be lost on them. They who haven’t seen such riches can, after all, live with being poor.
Generally, the higher the floor you have to go to, the swankier your room will be, and so letting people know that you’re on a higher floor than them, and therefore a better person in every conceivable way, is an art form, not one that your humble narrator gets to practise too much, though, let him assure you.
I do suffer from near-crippling floor envy, though, so I feel I can speak on this subject with some authority. The seasoned Floor Gloater, residing in a suitably high ranking floor, will hang back in the lobby and let the masses enter the lift first. Then they will wait, sometimes until the doors are closing, not doing anything in the hope that someone asks them which floor they need. They can then announce it loudly to the entire lift, ensuring that the people at the back, who may have missed the nuances of button pressing, are completely up to speed with the floor number involved.
If they are not asked which floor they would like, then Plan B comes into effect. This does involve button pressing, but with such a flourish that anyone sharing the confines of the lift would be hard pressed not to notice the superior ranking. A forefinger demonstratively going up and down the panel of possible numbers a few times usually suffices, though the more brazen might sometimes throw in a rhetorical “Now, what was my floor again…?” just to make sure.
The Floor Gloater’s worst nightmare is gambling on the superiority of a floor that is only second or third from the top. Imagine the humiliation of having gone through the above process, and then seeing the crowds disperse at their inferior heights, only for one person to remain, entering their floor only on the way up. This someone is somehow on the very highest floor, someone who, in the assurance that they could not be trumped, held back until the last possible minute to assert dominance.
This is the work of a true Floor Gloating Artist, executing a very specific and crushing floor victory over the would-be Floor Pretender, the plebs on the lowlier floors not even worthy of seeing this elite punishment being doled out. Had they even witnessed it (having missed their floor and having to wait for the car to go down again), its significance would surely be lost on them. They who haven’t seen such riches can, after all, live with being poor.
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