Wait... Why Do We Do That?

You step into an elevator. Press your floor. Then press the Close Door button.

Nothing.

So you press it again.

Still nothing.

Naturally, you press it another six times. Because apparently the elevator didn't understand how serious you were the first seven.

But here's the question...

Does that button actually do anything?

In this episode of Wait... Why Do We Do That?, we investigate one of the most suspicious buttons in modern life: the elevator Close Door button.

We'll discover why some buttons really do work, why others seem determined to ignore you, and how elevator safety rules, accessibility requirements and automated systems all play a part.

We'll also travel back to the days when elevators had actual human operators, explore the psychology of placebo buttons, and discover why the same button that ignores you on your way to lunch can become essential during special operating modes.

And, of course, we'll tackle the really important questions.

Why do we press elevator buttons repeatedly, as though machines respond to enthusiasm?

Why does everyone instinctively face the doors?

And what does it say about your character when you see someone running toward the elevator... and press Close Door anyway?

Because perhaps the button isn't broken.

Perhaps the elevator has simply received your request, reviewed it carefully, and decided it doesn't report to you.

So the next time you step into an elevator, press Close Door. Once.

And if someone appears at the far end of the lobby...

Well, that's between you, the Door Open button, and your conscience.

Because apparently, there's a reason for almost everything.

Even if it isn't a particularly good one.

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Why does something cost $19.99 instead of $20?

It's one cent.

We all know it's basically twenty dollars. The retailer knows we know it's basically twenty dollars. We know they know we know.

And yet... $19.99 survives.

In this episode of Wait... Why Do We Do That?, we investigate one of retail's most persistent little tricks: charm pricing.

We'll discover why our brains can treat $2.99 differently from $3.00, how the first digit of a price can influence the way we perceive it, and why that seemingly insignificant penny may actually affect what we buy.

We'll also investigate the wonderfully convenient story that 99-cent pricing was invented to stop dishonest shop assistants pocketing the money, why the real history isn't quite that simple, and how prices ending in nine became associated with bargains and discounts.

Then there are sale prices, luxury pricing, online shopping and the subscription economy, where $9.99 a month sounds

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Why do hotels kick you out at 11 AM? And if you can't check in until 3 or 4 in the afternoon... what exactly happened to the other five hours?

In this episode of Wait... Why Do We Do That?, we investigate one of those travel rules almost everyone accepts without really questioning.

You pay for a night in a hotel. You arrive in the afternoon. You sleep there. And then, at precisely 11 AM the next morning, your status seems to change from "valued guest" to "person housekeeping would quite like to leave."

So why eleven?

We'll look at what actually happens between checkout and check-in, why hotels need everyone leaving within roughly the same window, how housekeeping turns hundreds of rooms in just a few hours, and why simply renting every room for 24 hours would create absolute chaos.

We'll also investigate early check-in, late checkout, hotel overbooking, the surprisingly complicated illusion that nobody has ever occupied your room before you... and why it's probably best not to think too hard about the TV remote.

And then there's the real answer hiding underneath all of it.

Hotels don't really sell rooms.

They sell blocks of time.

Which finally explains those mysterious missing five hours.

Mostly.

So the next time you're standing in Room 417 at 10:54, desperately searching for the charger you were absolutely

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Why do we change the clocks twice a year? Are we actually saving daylight? And whose idea was this anyway?

In this episode of Wait... Why Do We Do That?, we uncover the surprisingly complicated history behind daylight saving time.

We'll find out why Benjamin Franklin didn't actually invent it, why farmers weren't responsible for it, and how a British builder riding his horse one summer morning decided humanity had a serious problem: everyone was sleeping while the sun was shining.

Then came World War One, energy conservation, a wonderfully chaotic period when American cities couldn't agree what time it was, and even an experiment with year-round daylight saving time that didn't quite go according to plan.

We'll also look at whether changing the clocks really saves energy, why businesses love evening sunshine, what sleep researchers think about the whole thing, and why agreeing that we should stop changing the clocks turns out to be much easier than agreeing which time we should keep.

And through it all, one appliance remains completely unmoved by more than a century of debate...

the microwave.

Because we aren't actually changing daylight.

We're just changing the numbers on our clocks and hoping our bodies, our schedules and apparently our kitchen appliances eventually catch up.

Because apparently, there's a reason for almost everything.

Even if it isn't a particularly good one.

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Why do people voluntarily run 26.2 miles, and who decided that the final 385 yards were absolutely necessary?

In this episode, Steve explores the strange history of the marathon, from an ancient Greek legend and the early Olympic Games to the chaotic 1908 race that helped establish the distance we know today. Along the way, we meet exhausted runners, interfering officials, a determined royal family, and Dorando Pietri, who crossed the finish line first but did not actually win.

It is a story of endurance, tradition, questionable decisions, and the remarkable human willingness to pay good money to suffer for several hours.

Because apparently, there is a reason for almost everything. Even if it is not a particularly good one.

Send us Fan Mail

Why do we change the clocks twice a year? Are we actually saving daylight? And whose idea was this anyway?

In this episode of Wait... Why Do We Do That?, we uncover the surprisingly complicated history behind daylight saving time.

We'll find out why Benjamin Franklin didn't actually invent it, why farmers weren't responsible for it, and how a British builder riding his horse one summer morning decided humanity had a serious problem: everyone was sleeping while the sun was shining.

Then came World War One, energy conservation, a wonderfully chaotic period when American cities couldn't agree what time it was, and even an experiment with year-round daylight saving time that didn't quite go according to plan.

We'll also look at whether changing the clocks really saves energy, why businesses love evening sunshine, what sleep researchers think about the whole thing, and why agreeing that we should stop changing the clocks turns out to be much easier than agreeing which time we should keep.

And through it all, one appliance remains completely unmoved by more than a century of debate...

the microwave.

Because we aren't actually changing daylight.

We're just changing the numbers on our clocks and hoping our bodies, our schedules and apparently our kitchen appliances eventually catch up.

Because apparently, there's a reason for almost everything.

Even if it isn't a particularly good one.

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Why do we tip? And how did paying someone extra for doing their job become such a complicated part of everyday life?

In this episode of Wait... Why Do We Do That?, we uncover the strange and surprisingly controversial history behind tipping.

America didn't invent tipping. In fact, when the custom first spread from Europe, many Americans absolutely hated it. Critics called it aristocratic, unfair and even un-American. Some states went as far as trying to ban it.

So how did a practice people once wanted outlawed become so deeply embedded in American life?

We'll explore tipping's uncomfortable history after the Civil War, its connection to service workers and wages, the rise of the federal tip credit, and how 15 percent somehow became 18... then 20... and occasionally a payment screen suggesting 30 percent without the slightest hint of embarrassment.

We'll also look at why tipping works so differently around the world, whether it really rewards better service, why restaurants struggle to eliminate it, and how the humble payment tablet created an entirely new phenomenon: tip creep.

Because nothing makes a confident adult question their moral character quite like buying a coffee and being handed a screen asking:

18 percent?

20 percent?

25 percent?

No tip?

Choose wisely.

Because apparently, there's a reason for almost everything.

Even if it isn't a particularly good one.

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Why are the letters on your keyboard arranged Q-W-E-R-T-Y? And why are we still using a layout created in the age of mechanical typewriters?

In this episode of Wait... Why Do We Do That?, we uncover the strange story behind one of the most familiar pieces of technology in the world: the QWERTY keyboard.

We'll go back to the nineteenth century and meet Christopher Latham Sholes, explore the mechanical typewriters that helped create QWERTY, and investigate whether the famous story that the keyboard was deliberately designed to slow typists down is actually true.

We'll also discover the possible influence of telegraph operators, how Remington helped turn QWERTY into a standard, and why supposedly better alternatives like the Dvorak keyboard never managed to replace it.

Then things get even stranger.

Mechanical typewriters disappeared. Computers arrived. Smartphones eliminated physical keys altogether.

And somehow...

QWERTY survived all of them.

It's a story about technology, muscle memory and the enormous power of simply doing something the same way for long enough.

Because sometimes a system survives not because it's the best...

but because changing it would be worse.

And apparently, there's a reason for almost everything.

Even if it isn't a particularly good one.

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Why do we have weekends? And who decided that two days off after five days of work was the right deal?

In this episode of Wait... Why Do We Do That?, we uncover the surprisingly complicated story behind Saturday and Sunday.

For much of history, the weekend as we know it simply didn't exist. Workers routinely worked six days a week, Sunday was primarily a religious day of rest, and Saturday was just another working day.

So how did we end up with two?

The answer involves religion, labor movements, Jewish immigration, industrial factories, Henry Ford, the Great Depression and even a wonderfully convenient tradition known as "Saint Monday."

We'll discover how Saturday afternoon became valuable leisure time, why businesses realized that giving workers time off could actually be good for business, and how the five-day, 40-hour workweek eventually became embedded in American life.

And there's a bigger question.

If we once moved from six working days to five, why did we stop there?

The strange story behind two days of the week that most of us couldn't imagine living without.

Because apparently, there's a reason for almost everything.

Even if it isn't a particularly good one.

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Why is a normal workday eight hours? Why not six, ten or some other number entirely?

In the first episode of Wait... Why Do We Do That?, we uncover the surprisingly turbulent history behind something millions of us accept without much thought: the eight-hour workday.

It turns out eight hours wasn't chosen because scientists discovered the perfect amount of time for humans to be productive. It emerged from decades of labor movements, strikes and demands for something workers once considered radical: eight hours for work, eight hours for recreation and eight hours for rest.

We'll look at the role of Robert Owen, the Haymarket Affair, what Henry Ford actually had to do with the eight-hour day, and how the 40-hour workweek eventually became embedded in American life.

And then there's the bigger question. After nearly two centuries of technological progress, why are so many of us still organizing our working lives around eight hours?

The strange story behind a completely normal part of everyday life.

Because apparently, there's a reason for almost everything.

Even if it isn't a particularly good one.

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