A man lives on the twelfth floor of an apartment building. Every morning he takes the elevator down to the lobby and leaves the building. In the evening, he gets into the elevator, and, if there is someone else in the elevator — or if it was raining that day — he goes back to his floor directly. Otherwise, he goes to the tenth floor and walks up two flights of stairs to his apartment.
God that one winds me up. If the shortarsed little bastard needed his umbrella to push the lift buttons, why didn’t he take it with him rain or shine? Or for that matter, since we’re in fucking lateral thinking land, why doesn’t he come up with a better solution?
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