Personal Hygiene
There comes a point at which your hygiene becomes less your problem and more everyone else's:
My old school nurse never seemed to wash - instead she wrapped herself in crepe bandages from the first aid kits. The smell was beyond pungent. If you got ill at school, it was better to suffer than try and explain symptoms whilst only breathing out.
When she was eventually 'let go',they had to strip the wallpaper in her office to get rid of the lingering odour.
How scuzzy have you got? Or, failing that, how bad have people you know got?
( , Thu 22 Mar 2007, 12:40)
There comes a point at which your hygiene becomes less your problem and more everyone else's:
My old school nurse never seemed to wash - instead she wrapped herself in crepe bandages from the first aid kits. The smell was beyond pungent. If you got ill at school, it was better to suffer than try and explain symptoms whilst only breathing out.
When she was eventually 'let go',they had to strip the wallpaper in her office to get rid of the lingering odour.
How scuzzy have you got? Or, failing that, how bad have people you know got?
( , Thu 22 Mar 2007, 12:40)
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Her Majesty's Smelly Service
I worked as a temp in some office a few (many) years ago.
There was one guy there who wore the same clothes every day I worked there - shirt, tie, tank top, cord trousers and he stunk the place out. So much so, we all managed to move further and further away from him until there was a decent sized neutral zone between him and the rest of the section.
The only problem: he was the boss, and no bugger had the front to tll him he was a filthy, dirty bastard.
Guess who - on his last day before gtting a real job - was made to do the not-so-dirty deed?
His reply: "Oh. I thought you were all avoiding me, or something."
We were Jean-Paul, you soap-dodging dog, we were.
( , Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:26, Reply)
I worked as a temp in some office a few (many) years ago.
There was one guy there who wore the same clothes every day I worked there - shirt, tie, tank top, cord trousers and he stunk the place out. So much so, we all managed to move further and further away from him until there was a decent sized neutral zone between him and the rest of the section.
The only problem: he was the boss, and no bugger had the front to tll him he was a filthy, dirty bastard.
Guess who - on his last day before gtting a real job - was made to do the not-so-dirty deed?
His reply: "Oh. I thought you were all avoiding me, or something."
We were Jean-Paul, you soap-dodging dog, we were.
( , Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:26, Reply)
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