Wow, Joel. That was suave, even for you. You held the door open at the last second for that woman in a rush. Arm extended between the closing doors in one continuous, karate chop. The bar has been set, and the ride has barely begun. Don’t blow it, Joel.

Right now, you’re the biggest stud in this elevator.

Okay, better ask her “What floor?” That’s what courteous gentlemen do in elevators. Floor 34. Thattaboy, Joel. Now it’s time to press that button. She’s watching you, but no pressure. You’ve done this a thousand times before.

Left hand or right hand? You’re left-handed, but will she think that’s just an affectation? But the right hand is way too predictable. You’re like no other man she’s ever met, Joel. You’re anything but predictable. What about knuckle? Yeah, knuckle’s cool. That’s like fist-bumping the wall. The wall is your homie. Show her you’ve got friends, Joel. Dap up that wall, Joel.

Okay, so you just pressed five buttons by mistake. Play it off, Joel. You can bounce back from this. You’re still the biggest stud in this–

Are you breathing too loud? What happened to elevator music? Looks like you’re on aux, Joel. Whistle something she might like. Maybe she’ll start humming along. By the time we arrive on floor 34, we’ll be a freakin’ acapella duo. What should we call ourselves? What’s the two-person version of Pentatonix? Bitonix? That sounds like a prescription drug. You’ll work the name out later. Don’t get distracted, Joel.

She’s wearing glasses. Must be a professor. Quick! Prove you’re a savant like her, Joel. Read something. Anything. Should you pull out a book? No, you only have about 45 seconds to land this plane. That’s not even enough time to skim a paragraph of dense imagery, let alone a page. How embarrassing would that be? To have taken out a book and not even flipped the page? She would probably think you’re a paid actor. A paid actor who reads books in elevators. That might be impressive, though. To be a paid actor who reads books in elevators. You have always had an artistic side, Joel.

Shoulders back. Dime pieces don’t slouch, Joel. Lean against the railing, all nonchalant. Why is there even a railing in here? For accessibility purposes, Joel. Look outside of your narrow worldview and show some compassion for once in your goddamn life. This lady’s probably returning from a volunteer shift at the soup kitchen. When’s the last time you had soup, Joel? God, a chicken noodle would fix everything right now.

Joel, you handsome hunk, ground yourself. There’s a sign on the wall, that’s interesting. The maximum weight is 1,000 pounds. Huh. You’re probably close to that in muscle mass alone. Should you ask her how much she weighs? Maybe at the end of the ride.

How do elevators even work? Time to wow her with some sort of elevator fact. Okay, what do you know about elevators? Well, there’s a shaft. No, too crass. The Brits call them “lifts.” Should you call it a lift? She might think you’re European. Crap, why didn’t you wear your newsboy cap? Today of all days, Joel?

Why are we slowing down? A malfunction? No, worse. New guy just walked in. Disaster: he pressed his own button. He didn’t defer to you as button-pusher, Joel. He thinks he’s top dog. His presumptuousness is threatening the entire dynamic you’ve been painstakingly establishing in this elevator.

New guy’s completely shot our center of gravity. We’re definitely going to get stuck. Oh my god. What if we run out of oxygen? You better start holding your breath now. Wait, are they still breathing? Well that’s just not fair. How are you expected to conserve air for three people? New guy’s putting our lives on the line by breathing. This must be what that rescue button is for.

We have to call the elevator police.

Slow your roll, Joel. You might be the finest man in this elevator right now, but let’s be realistic: an elevator policeman would blow you out of the water. Those guys are professionals. You’d be a 6 at best next to an elevator policeman. Besides, beefcakes like you can’t admit defeat. You’re a provider, Joel. Remember when you held the door for this woman 60 seconds ago? Mothers have lifted cars to save their babies. You can rip open these elevator doors with your bare hands. It’s hero time.

But would that be too much machismo? What if she wants to save herself? You have always had an enlightened sense of masculinity, Joel, you self-aware superstar.

Ding. Crisis averted. Floor 34 already. Should you say goodbye? Too late, she’s already leaving the elevator. Not even a curt nod of acknowledgement for services rendered. Absolutely gutting. Welp, you blew it. You should’ve taken the stairs.

Hold up. She’s turning around. She’s smiling at you. This is not a drill. Wave! Wave, dammit! She waved back. Holy cow, she waved back.

You’re a beast, Joel. Let’s get you some chicken noodle soup.