Hell is a revolving door

I hate revolving doors. I go through about 800 every day. Ok, maybe 6, but it feels like 800. No two revolving doors are the same. Some are heavy, some sneakily light. The people going through them scare me too. The guy that has to get outside right now, with no concern for anyone else in their glassed in pie slice? He's often in the same revolving door as me. I almost have to go around twice, as I'm just not as fast as he is, and can't vault myself out like him. I also often have the old lady with the cane, or the traveler with the suitcase, or the person who refuses to push themselves. I stand there, I wait. I nearly had a standoff the other day with one lady who refused to share the responsiblity of making the door Revolve. She stood there. So I stood there. She looked over her shoulder, pleadingly. I gave her the 'oh, helllll nnoooo' look back. She somehow used her purse strap to nudge the door in the right direction. I hate revolving doors.