Ew
When I worked in Hull (I'm know, I'm sorry too) - there was this guy who was large. Very large. Huge in fact.

I need to point out that this building wasn't air conditioned. And that the front of the building was mostly glass. And South facing. Summer was sheer hell.

Anyway this guy sweated. A lot. And in Summer it was a battle to not go and see this guy as to be in his orbit meant death by bad smell. It was vile.

His chair, on the other hand, was a special kind of disgusting. Even when he wasn't there, I'd be sure to NOT sit in his seat as the mere thought of sitting in the same chair as this overweight sweatball sickened me to the core. I never touched it, but it looked damp all the time.

The vile part was when I and my colleague (Let's call her Nicki) went to see him - now I was happy to let Nicki take the lead as, well, I didn't really want to talk to him any more than I had to.

Nicki knew about the chair. Everyone did.

The question is though, how do you not sit in a chair that has been vacated by the guy you've gone to see, when he insists? Answer - you don't.

And it had been a particularly hot day. The chair, apparently, was an unpleasant kind of damp. Nice.

The look on Nicki's face was fairly priceless, a mixture of disgust, revulsion, terror and eventual resignation - she did, however, fix his PC. Back in the office, after much "ewwing" - she decided to go home to shower, bathe and burn the clothes she'd been wearing.

I never sat in the guy's chair ever - I always wheeled one over. Nicki did the same after that.

/retch
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 14:09, Reply)