The Ethical Dilemma of Taking the Elevator

How many floors is enough? 

By Julia Palor

It’s simple: You get out of a boring lecture, and the first thing you do is head straight to your dorm to recharge. Depending on what floor you’re on, you take the elevator or maybe the stairs. As a seventh-floor resident (and a previous tenth-floorer), the elevator is my go-to. 

As an avid elevator user, I’m often in the middle of some pretty awkward conversations. (I swear I’m not listening on purpose, but we’re literally shoulder to shoulder). One thing I’ve noticed is that there seems to be a pretty lively debate on whether or not it’s appropriate to take the elevator when you live on a walkable floor.

After overhearing a particularly intense discussion revolving around how no one needs to take the elevator for anything less than five floors (I had to try really hard not to react), I decided to do some boots-on-the-ground journalism to figure out what the consensus was.

Asking some of my friends about it led to mixed reactions. One said she thought it was a waste of time to hog the elevator to go up two flights. Another told me that he didn't care at all; he'd take it to the first floor if it was available. A third was that she tried not to assume a person's well-being: there are many reasons why someone might not be physically capable of walking up stairs.

Personal opinions on elevator usage aside, this whole excursion got me thinking about the moral categories Gen-Z has gotten accustomed to sorting our lives into, even when our individual choices exist in an uncomfortable grey area. I’ve noticed it in myself: the need to tear apart insignificant choices and assign ethical values to circumstances that do not require them.

Being human is uncomfortable. Not to mention that existing in public can be near unbearable. With the dominance of social media and increased accessibility to other people’s opinions, it can be hard to fight the impulse to assign moral imperatives to everything from collecting figurines to reclining your chair on a ten-hour flight. We’re constantly inundated with a relentless barrage of anxiety: Am I overconsuming? Is buying from this company ethical? Am I a bad person for doing this? 

It can be easy to forget that discomfort and uncertainty are necessary components of our existence. Sometimes our concerns are legitimately valid, and it’s important that we continue to make progress towards a more ethical world. Other times we’re just flailing ourselves out to an imaginary jury. It's easy to forget that not every situation requires a verdict. Sometimes, you just want to take the elevator.