Elevator Speeches

The Problem

I just looked at the calendar and realized we’re about a week out from the anniversary of my dad’s… well, the day he died.

I never know quite what to call it, really.

Oh, I know there have been phrases coined around it long before I came along, heavenly birthdays and what have you.

But I haven’t been able to write my elevator speech for it.

You know, something simple to explain what happened and describe the emotional wooziness I feel every year as the day approaches.

Or something user-friendly and socialized to help bullet point the random thoughts and flashbacks I’ve inherited from aging grief.

Can’t seem to do it.

And that’s probably why I often stay silent on the elevator.

On the elevator, down the grocery aisle, at the gas station, and in curbside pickup spot number 10.

I know those places don’t exactly give talk show set vibes.

But I also know I’ve been on the elevator before with tons of emotional turbulence.

And I’ve been super close to ditching wacky weather banter, and telling a stranger how much I still miss my dad, even though he’s been gone for many years.

So that got me to thinking.

The Pondering

We work so hard on pitches to sell stuff. Ways to connect to a lucrative opportunity with someone if only given a moment. Classes and workshops abound on how to perfect a one-liner for profit.

But what if we worked that hard to connect with someone, just to care? Just to take a moment and help them feel seen?

I get the immediate push back that comes to mind. I know if I were reading this for the first time, it’s what I’d think. We’re all busy. We’re all in a hurry. In a rush. Stuff to do. No time to engage.

Yup. We SO are. But not every single time.

Listen, as extroverted as I pretend to be sometimes, the introvert that lives within can be bossy. It feels better than it should to get on the elevator and rapid-fire push the button to my floor (like it’s going to make the door close any faster), just so I can ride alone.

The Positivity

I’d like to get better at that. Not at closing the door, but at leaving it open for just a beat longer than I often do.

Because you never know what people are really carrying onto the elevator along with their floor destination. And what if on the right day at the right time, we asked someone with sincerity, warmth and good eye contact how they’re doing?

Maybe they wouldn’t need a fancy elevator speech to tell us at all.