I'm Not A Doorman

I work in an office with one of those doors that needs to be unlocked with a passcard. I'm walking up to the door with my passcard and there's somebody else behind me. Fine. I lean down to swipe my card, then I stop. I look at the guy. He's standing right in front of the door, holding the door handle, while he looks at something on his cell phone. He looks up with this look of confusion, then looks at me, then looks down at his phone. As if he was thinking "That's odd. The door hasn't opened yet. Oh, the guy sees me standing here. Now he'll open it for me."

I'm not objecting to the idea of going in on someone else's passcard. Heck, I've done it a bunch of times. This is what bothered me - it is not my job to open the door for anyone, let alone this white-hole. Not only did he not acknowledge my existence, he didn't even give me the chance to go through first. What I'm used to is someone waiting behind me. I swipe my card, and go in first, then hold the door for the other guy, who thanks me.

But no. This guy acted like I wasn't even there, like I was just part of the automatic system. This is what this fuzzhead does - he walks up to the door and holds the handle like he's on Star Trek and it opens automatically. Finally, after I got him to at least acknowledge I'm there, I swiped my card. He pushes the door open and walks away without even a "thank you" or a check to see if I got through it. I called out to him, "Oh, you're going in first? You're welcome." He ignored that, too.

What I wish I'd done was folded my arms and waited until he either asked me to let him through or until he used his own freakin' passcard. Just to tell him I am not his slave or his doorman. But I don't want to turn into a complete jerk who's known for blowing up at the slightest thing. That is, if I already haven't.
Categories: opinion