<< Back 11/20/02 Tuition buys more than a classroom education By Cristina Reitz College is all about soaking up knowledge and finding useful ways to apply it to the real world.The kind of knowledge to which I’m referring, however, is not always found in lecture halls or the library. I’m talking about real knowledge; the kind of stuff you can only get in places like public bathrooms, the cafeteria or a bus. Mostly I’m talking about etiquette here. College has cleared up those manners questions that Emily Post just didn’t cover. For example, on those trash cans with the little flaps, are you supposed to hold them open for the person behind you as well? Real world application: What if you’re on a lunch interview with a prospective boss and it’s one of those bus-your-own-table affairs? This is important stuff. There are a myriad of social sectors in which this kind of real-world learning comes in handy. In the laundry room, for example, how do you properly deal with abandoned laundry when you need to use the dryer in which they were abandoned? Do you dump it in a pile somewhere? Do you fold the clothes nicely to make up for taking them out of their resting place? Do you take them to lost and found? In the gym, what is the most effective way to tell a person to get off the machine you’ve signed up for when they look like they have no intention of moving? How old or pregnant must a person be before necessitating that you relinquish your seat on the bus? How well do you have to know a person before saying “hi” in public, and once you’re at that stage is it possible to regress to where you both ignore each other? Is it ever OK to go through the left side of double doors? There is so much information that at times, I must admit, it can be hard to take it all in. Even now I have trouble making people get off the gym machines. Luckily, however, college presents you with many chances to practice and perfect your manners. This is especially helpful for the more in-depth and complicated social rules which go hand in hand with shared bathrooms, list serves and elevators. Last year I usually took the stairs, but living on the tenth floor has made me a regular elevator rider. There is a whole world of tacit elevator etiquette, the nuances of which have only been recently revealed to me. In case any of you have forgotten — or never learned — these universal elevator axioms, I’ll go over them. First I think it’s best to define “Button Master.” The Button Master is the person who presses the buttons for everyone on the elevator. Once the Button Master is decided, you may not encroach on his or her space, nor attempt to push any buttons for them. To do so is a flagrant sign of disrespect for the whole system and the elevator will be filled with bad vibes directed at the offender until he or she exits. The job of Button Master is given on a first-come, first-serve basis. The first person to enter the elevator may elect to be the Button Master. If they choose not to take on this responsibility, they must go to the opposite corner of the elevator. Let’s say the button panel is on the front, left side of the elevator. If the first person on decides not to take charge of the panel, they would go to the back, right corner. The next person on can choose to be the Button Master or to go to the back, left corner. If the next person on decides not to be Button Master they go to the front, right. The next person would go to the back middle. Even if the first person decides to be Button Master, this is still the order for filling up elevator space. The last person on must be the Button Master if no one else decides to, however, this is usually not the case as it is a prestigious position. Once the Button Master takes office, they have a few responsibilities. One is to make sure the doors don’t shut on anyone, another is to make sure the elevator goes to all the necessary floors and the last is to maximize time efficiency by shutting the doors as soon as someone gets off. So, a typical ride goes something like this: The Button Master holds the doors open till everyone is on. Then they ask “What Floors?” or, if it is a small crowd, at least give a questioning look to the other riders. The riders are then required to verbally give their floors. It is highly looked down upon to reach over and hit a button yourself. As I said before, that is the Button Master’s job, and anyone who tries to usurp the button-pushing power will be shunned. If you only ride to the third floor or below, you are shunned and must remain quiet and penitent. If you ride down from the fifth floor or below, you are also shunned. If you try to pull that on the way back in from a fire alarm, you are kicked off, especially if only one elevator is working. On our elevators, the “close door” button is completely ineffective. The only way to close the door is to push a floor button. This presents the Button Master with a moral dilemma; which button to push? There are a few options. They can push the button for the next floor or they can push the top button. There is one exception. If the light bulb behind one of the floor buttons has burned out, then you are supposed to push that button or, if there’s more than one, all those buttons to show the other passengers that you didn’t neglect them. It is considered in bad taste to push one’s own floor button if it is somewhere in the middle. This would show the riders that the Button Master is more concerned with his or her destination than those of the other passengers thus resulting in a loss of support for that Button Master. You must be quick about this, though, because no one likes to be on elevators for very long. If the Button Master gets off before the elevator reaches its final destination then the person behind them assumes command. Finally, you are never, ever allowed to deny a person access to the elevator. Not even if they’re carrying a hundred bags and there’re already 20 people crammed on and there’s a good chance the chord could snap because the weight limit has definitely been exceeded. The only exception to this is when all the elevators have broken (due to the afore said situation) except one. That one elevator becomes sacred and only then can you tell people to stay away and not be considered a pox on society by invoking the “only eight people per elevator” rule. For the most part, the rejected passengers are OK with this. After all, no one wants to plummet to their death or, even worse, have to walk up nine flights with their backpack on. This is just a taste of the kind of real-world learning taking place here at Chapel Hill. There is so much yet to learn. A microcosm of societal etiquette remains to be explored and conquered! Sometimes learning all these rules can be a daunting task, but there is a wealth of knowledge out there waiting to be grabbed and I feel confident that by the time I graduate I will be able to kick anyone off my gym machine with assurance and grace. (Cristina Reitz is a former Smoky Mountain News intern who is back in school at UNC. She is from Haywood County.)