How to Push My Buttons--Literally and Figuratively

A couple of things that crossed my mind today that I thought were funny. Sorry if you don't, but I'm going to write about them anyways.

First of all, I've been taking a lot of elevators lately, since it takes so long to walk upstairs in this leg brace that I call "the cage." (I think I'll call it 'Nick' for short). Usually, I'm not the only person waiting for the elevator, especially since I'm just going to physical therapy or the doctor with other incapacitated persons. But, what is it with people pushing the elevator buttons dozens of times? Once is enough. It's not like the elevator has a brain and thinks, "Oh, wow! 17 people have pushed the button on that floor. I'd better hurry, or I'll have a shit storm of angry patrons. They'll never ride me again, and I'll lose my job...won't be able to feed my family. I'd better haul ass now!!" The same goes for hitting the button to get the walk sign. People--the lights are timed. You're just telling it to include the walk sign once it changes.

Second, I think it's great that many people still write thank you notes. I'm all for manners, and thank you notes are pretty old school, so I don't really care if someone just gives me a heartfelt verbal thank you on the spot or later. Even an email will do. Now, I shouldn't complain about getting a thank you note in the mail, but I'm going to, because I have a friend that I believe sends me a thank you note for a gift before I've even left her home. I have seriously received the thank you note the next day in the mail, and in a city like Los Angeles, that either means she's Johnny-on-the-Spot Extreme or she's creeping up to my mailbox in the middle of the night, but since my home alarm hasn't gone off, I'll assume it's the former. Why would this bug me? Well, when I get a thank you note immediately after giving a gift, it feels so perfunctory-- like a formality that must be gotten out of the way. It's like my friend is a Stepford Wife who just uploads niceties from her brain into an envelope the second I've left her porch. Wait a few days. Make me wonder. Think of me as that guy you like but don't want to call right away after the first date, lest you seem too eager...desperate. Or, at least make me think that you're so enthralled by the perfume, book, guitar, lite brite, or gold-panning kit I've given you that you just couldn't tear yourself away to write that thank you for a couple of days. But don't wait more than a week, because that's just rude.