Stephen Fee's Rant of the Week
Hold the door or I'll use your forehead as a doorstop.
Sometimes I will sit on the futon in my common room, reaching for the remote control with my toes so I don’t have to get up.
I frequently consider not washing my legs in the shower because they’re just so far away.
And on occasion, I let my shoes remain untied until I get to Sever and sit down, so that I’m in convenient shoe-tying position.
Sometimes, I even ask other people to tie my shoes. They refuse.
But I’m not lazy with door holding. When entering Eliot, I gleefully swipe my card (whee!), and I look to see who might be approaching.
Oh look—here comes a friendly housemate. Common sense, as well as basic manners, dictate that I ought to hold the door. A quick smile or head nod, and my job is done. Simple, right?
But apparently, whenever I am approaching, everyone decides that door holding is as passé as tenuring women.
Oh look—I’ll just let the door close and pretend not to look at the kid standing right behind me, who has in fact been following me for the past fifty yards, and for whom I could’ve easily propped the door but I’m too much of a schmuck to bother to waste the four and a half seconds it would take to lodge my bloated ass in the doorway so that someone else might pass.
While I’m fumbling with my wallet, and you’re sitting there on the other side of the glass door (it’s glass, moron) completely ignoring me, a little part of me dies.
But not the part that wants to use your forehead as a doorstop.
So please, hold the door. And while you’re at it, would you mind tying my shoe?