The Universe Hates Me

After much observation one ultimate truth seems to reveal itself and that truth is the universe hates me. I'm not a very pessimistic person and tend to have a very positive attitude, but there is no question in my mind that the universe hates me. It is not sufficient for God to highly dislike me, but the universe must also hate me. I really don't even like personifying the universe, or anything else, really, but I don't think I have any choice here. The universe simply hates me. In an attempt to help prove to you the audience that I am the subject of the universe's hate, let me tell you about the Elevator of exasperation:
The service elevator in my apartment never functions properly for me. I catch it on the fourth floor to go to the basement. I get in and push the basement button and instead of descending to the basement level I rise one floor and then am able to go to the basement. You might think that this is just the way it is programmed, but after asking other residents, who seem to never or rarely have this problem. Also, it always runs properly if I am in the elevator with someone else. So, obvious conclusion, the universe hates me.

Have a good night knowing that you are not the object of the universe's hate.