Going Down?

I came across an interesting factoid in The New Yorker the other day ("Up and then Down", April 21, 2008): since the 1990's, the "close door" button on elevators doesn't actually work. The only person that can activate that button is a fireman with a key that he or she uses in the event of a fire or emergency.

How many times have I pressed that key impatiently, smashing it again and again to get a door to close, usually when the elevator has stopped nonsensically at a floor where no one is present? That button almost acts as a valve, releasing the rising anger and angst of frustration. As if pressing it again and again - even though the doors still don't seem to immediately close - helps keep our temper in check.

Or maybe we use that button as a signal, a way of letting others in the elevator know that we are in a hurry, need to get somewhere, frustrated that the elevator is taking it's sweet time to get to the next floor.

Now that I know that this button doesn't actually work for us common folk, I'm going to more carefully watch how other passengers use this button. I'd like to see how many times they punch the button and what makes them believe, as I did, that their actions actually have some sort of consequence. And maybe, if I'm feeling particuarly punchy - or brave - I just might share the insight of the dummy button with them.