They’re on the elevator on the third floor, trying to get to the fourth. He pushes the button for the basement, realizes his mistake, and hits the button for four. Only the basement button lights up.
She says, “That’s the wrong floor.”
“I can see that,” he says, stabbing the #4 button repeatedly.
“I’m just saying.”
“Can’t you see that I see I made a mistake?”
“I just didn’t know if you knew.”
“You don’t have to rub it in.”
“I wasn’t trying to chastise you, I’m just trying to get the right button pushed.”
“Oh come on. You know what it was always like for me, growing up, with my mother always breathing down my neck. Don’t micromanage me.” She doesn’t say anything. “You know, if you pushed the wrong button and I said something about it, you’d be so mad.”
“You’d call me a dick if I did that.”
“You’re putting words in my mouth, you know. You’re making this up.”
“You’d call me a fucking ass hole.” He stabs the button to punctuate each syllable. “Mother. Fucking. Ass. Hole.”