Those Elevator Douchebags

In society, you've got your obvious paraites and purveyors of unclassiness. These parasites are most commonly known as vh1 reality contestants, Miley Cyrus, Canada, and, of course, New Jersey. However, there are more discreet elements at work within our society that are slowly but surely eating away at the moral and classy basis of our very existence.
This article is, of course, about Those elevator Douchebags. You know who you are. You are the lazy fatasses that make use of the elevator rather than go up or down one, two, or heaven-forbid three flights of stairs. You prolong the elevator rides of those who have no choice but to use the elevator, those stuck in the upper nether regions of their buildings. If their lives weren't already ridiculously sad and pathetic, their elevator rides eat up much more time than is reasonable or acceptable thanks to Those Elevator Douchebags.
No more. If you live lower than the fourth floor and still using the elevator, you are dead to NOTR, and are blacklisted from participation in NOTR's various classy events, most notably Roundtable Friday, Fancy Friday, Foursquare Friday, Fiendly Friday, Funky Hat Friday, Word-Association Wednesday, Shiriyah Barbecue Thursday, among many others. Participation in Gans Meltdown Tuesday is still encouraged.