Introducing Guest Blogger Comrade J.

Corporate Smells

By Guest Blogger J

I worked in a company for 10 years that was run by a fungus-nailed man-boy and his extremely self-conscious hippy wife. We never received Christmas bonuses because the company had no profit, but one year he bought the company a popcorn cart, barbershop quartet style - the kind you see in Movie Theater lobbies. It had 2 handles like a wheelbarrow and after its inaugural use remained in the tiny conference room abandoned and dusty.

Fungus Nails would put a whole raw onion into a glass bowl of water, pop it into the microwave oven and cook it for 20 minutes. He claimed that he was making Onion Soup. The humid cloud of onion vapor smelled exactly like B.O. Followed up immediately by a co-worker who was crotchety old Korean-war Vet. He would warm up his leftover half of yesterday’s Tuna Sandwich. This created a poisonous fish stink. The resulting suffocation lasted until we either got used to it or left the office in disgust.

I spent my time immersed in work and was grateful to have a job. One of the most dreadful parts about my job was the bathroom that was not in the office, but down the hallway. It was a dark cold 4-stall job that left one depressed and shivering. I had many horrible experiences in there due to my inflamed colon but consoled myself by writing letters that I never printed out.

Dear Ladies (who moisturize their giant asses before coming to work),

Can you please not moisturize your asses? Wait until after work. 
 Sitting down by accident on the toilet seat you just left all greasy just ruined my whole day. 
I slid, then realized, then gagged. 
I usually don't sit down because I use a variation on "chair pose" but today I overslept and was tired. 
 So now I am unhappy and nauseous AND tired.

Thank you, 
Your co-worker

One (shockingly) profitable year we went to Outback Steakhouse for our annual Christmas Party. December in a northern New York suburb means snowstorms and on the day of the party the forecast was for a giant nor’easter. Praying to the Lord God for a party cancellation did not work. The chipper hostess led us past a wood paneled bar into a back room reserved for parties. Sadly half set up, the dirty carpet; scratched tables with gunk on them were hastily covered with paper tablecloths. I can only describe the smell of the room as rancid with a touch of ammonia. Having assigned seats meant I was stuck with a crowd of people who were jumping out of their seats in anticipation of the appetizers. They were shocked that I had never tasted a blooming onion. “You dip it in ranch dressing!” someone screamed at me. “Wait until you taste the deep fried cauliflower and mozzarella sticks!!!!!” I had become despondent at this point but had to pretend I was enjoying myself. Hours later after slabs of previously frozen steaks were eaten, the embarrassing presents were opened we were allowed to leave for our Christmas vacation. The memory of this party still makes me weep and I still feel like committing suicide 5 years later.