This morning, I popped out to post some letters and, coming back indoors, stepped into the lift, selected my floor and waited. With a graunch and a lurch, it moved a bit, then stopped.  The door wouldn't open.  It wouldn't go up or down. Oh dear.

Two good things (or maybe three)

Firstly, I'm not claustrophobic, so althoguh it wasn't exactly nice to be stuck, I wasn't dsitressed.

Secondly, I had my phone, which had a signal, and the maintenance company phone number if posted inside the lift.  After two failed attempts, I finally managed to get through to them.

Meanwhile, the cleaners, who happen to be in a Tuesday, had notified one of my neighbours that someone was struck in the lift.  After much button pressing, doors opening between floors, lift moving up or down or just shaking, it finally returned to ground floor, and after another five minutes of so, I was able to open the door and escape.

Quite a slautory lesson, methinks...

What if I had been claustrophobic, or with someone who was? (I was alone in the lift)

What if I hadn't had a phone, or hadn't got a signal, or there was no number to call? (After the first two calls  failed, I did attempt to phone someone else, before finally getting through)

What if the cleaners hadn't been in to let my neighbour know? (The lift alarm doesn't seem to do anything other than squawk)

Of course, 'what if' doesn't achieve anything of itself.  I just have to be grateful that, given the lift broke down with me inside, all the other factors worked in my favour.

Maybe, too, it's a reminder that I shouldn't be so lazy, and just use the stairs in future!!