# The Elevator

In my old office, there was a rule that no one could explain.
Never press the elevator button twice.
Only once.
If you pressed it twice, the receptionist would calmly tell you: "Don't do that."
No one knew why.
As expected, on the third day I pressed it twice.
Nothing happened.
The elevator arrived, I got in, went up to the seventh floor, and did my work. A normal day.
But when I came down for lunch, the receptionist stopped me.
Did you press the elevator button twice this morning?
I laughed. "Yes. Why?"
She stared at me for a moment, then picked up the phone.
Maintenance? It happened again.
I thought she was joking.
Two men from the building's maintenance staff arrived within minutes.
One of them asked: "What floor?"
—The lobby," she said.
The man sighed, like someone who had done this too many times already.
Then he looked at me.
"Next time," he said, "just press it once."
I nodded, confused.
They opened the elevator control panel and started reviewing the wiring.
I didn't give it much thought.
The next morning, I walked into the lobby.
The receptionist seemed relieved to see me.
—Good," she said quietly.
"What's good?"
"You came back."
I laughed. "Of course I did. I work here."
She didn't laugh.
Instead, she asked:
"You didn't take the elevator again yesterday, did you?"
"Yes, around 6 in the evening."
Her face went pale.
"You shouldn't have done that."
I felt a knot in my stomach.
"Why?"
She didn't answer.
She simply pointed at the elevator.
"Look."
Next to the call button was a small brass plate that, for some reason, I had never noticed before.
It read:
"Installed: 1998"
Below it was a second line engraved in the metal.
"Button failures reported: 17 times."
Below that were names.
Seventeen names.
I recognized one immediately.
The guy whose desk I had taken over when I joined the company.
I looked back at the receptionist.
"That's strange."
She nodded slowly.
"Every time someone presses the button twice, the elevator stops first at the seventh floor."
"That's my floor."
"I know."
A chill ran through my body.
"And what's the problem?"
She hesitated.
Then she said quietly:
"The problem is... the elevator doesn't go to the seventh floor."