The Elevator that Stopped at Floor 3 | by John Fadejola (JF) | Sep, 2025

It was one of those Lagos mornings. The air was heavy with humidity, the street outside buzzing with impatient horns from Danfo drivers, Korope and Keke Marwa, not ruling out the corporate elite drivers raining curses, and my mind was already three steps ahead of my body. I had a meeting at 9 a.m., a list of tasks longer than my patience, and an elevator that on that particular day decided to stage a quiet protest.

Somewhere between the second and fourth floor, it stalled. Floor 3. Lights still on, air still circulating, but no movement. I wasn’t trapped; I was suspended. Suspended between urgency and surrender, between what I had planned and what life had just handed me.

At first, I did what we all do: I pressed the button harder, as though force could bend mechanics. Then, I stopped. And in that silence, something shifted.

We live in a culture that glorifies constant motion. Hustle, grind, stack, repeat. But purpose often hides in the pauses, the unplanned interruptions that force us to ask, “Why am I rushing, and to where?”

The elevator became a mirror. Had I been climbing floors without knowing which building I was in? Was I so obsessed with momentum that I had mistaken movement for meaning?

Floor 3 was not a failure. It was feedback. A reminder that purpose isn’t measured in speed, but in alignment.

Ten minutes later, the elevator jolted back to life, doors opening as though nothing had happened. But everything had happened. I walked out differently: slower, clearer, almost grateful for the glitch.

Because sometimes the systems that stall us, the delayed approvals, the budget freezes, the campaigns on hold, are less obstacles and more invitations. Invitations to check our direction before we accelerate again.

Life will stall you. Projects will stall you. Even your own energy will stall you. But every pause is a question:

• Are you running the right race?
• Is your ascent aligned with your assignment?
• Are you chasing speed at the expense of purpose?

Purpose lives in the floor 3 moments, the places where motion stops and meaning begins.

Sometimes progress looks like being stuck, but only so that you can discover if you’re climbing the right building.