The morning routine....
The badge passes through the scanner 1’s & 0’s fly through the system confirming identity and CLICK as a microswitch releases the lock. Enter the building and sense that the schizophrenic HVAC system has today decided that the interior weather will be something akin to Tuscaloosa in August, it was Green Bay in November yesterday. Swing by the desk; Ctrl-Alt-Delete and tap out 3rd Grade Teachers name and the aged laptop whirs to life, Outlook collecting the morning litany of action items. To the break room - a filter, a cup of grounds and start the brew.
Emails – delete, delete, delete the silly forwarded jokes…not at work please folks, those I’ll handle later, don’t ask me to do your job, list reduced by ½….coffee…now. Back to the desk. People filtering in. Mike the engineer gets his coffee, yells at the BMW service department on the phone. That guy with no apparent purpose other than socializing fills his gas-can sized mug and begins his rounds. It’s almost time…
Meeting requests, accept, accept, decline with edited response. Start report query from CRM system and…CLICK….Oh geez, it's him.
He enters with an audible exasperated sigh muttering to himself as he crosses the room, his destination is the other side of the cube wall. KA-BAM! His bag full of magazines that he’ll later take to the restroom for his late morning 1hr + constitutional slams down on his desk. He's smoked a ½-dozen cigarettes in the car on the way to work; the stench permeates every fiber of his clothing and a 12 foot radius around his prodigious form. The smell of Camel lights makes its way over the cube wall and hits my olfactory sensors with the sudden, startling shock of a book dropped in a quiet library.
He curses aloud as his laptop comes to life and makes his way to the coffee urn. Three pumps - SQUIRT-SQUIRT-SQUIRRRRRSPALTTTTT as the urn goes dry. He’s pumped ¾ of a cup, emptying the urn and as always, turns and walks away without making another pot.
We all know who you are.
We all know who you are.
Returns to his desk CLICK goes the radio tuned to one of those wacky “Morning Zoo” shows with the interchangeable characters of Douchey Guy & Dimwit. They rip off every bit Howard Stern ever did. They’ll be fired within 6mos and replaced with another banal duo but they play the best mix of the 80’s 90’s & 2000’s while almost talking about sex. Very edgy.
The jacket unzips, and he mutters another vulgarity about who-knows-what, yesterday he was bitching about his wife to no one in particular and then it happens as it does every day he drops his hulking physique into the embrace of the Herman Miller chair I hear it straining in protest…Quick thoughts - Do those things have a load rating? Has there been testing? Is there a chance of shrapnel penetrating the cube wall if the frame fails?
Oh god...here it comes…any second now…there it is…the chair creaks as he leans to one side…Unspoken, I plaintively ask why?...He clears his throat as if to mask the daily indignity he subjects us all to…..BRAAAAAAAAAAP!
DUUUUUUDE!
What makes you think we can’t hear that?
What makes you think we can’t smell that?
What makes you think that’s ok?
What makes you think we can’t hear that?
What makes you think we can’t smell that?
What makes you think that’s ok?
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