Thursday, August 27, 2009

nausea ad naseum...

I go dutifully to my cubicle each day. I can deal with vealdom-- truly I can.

I've not nestled in so much as others. Feeling as I do that I'll be marched to the front door by security any day now, I've not burdened myself with the torment of having to pull personal photos and ephemera off the walls of my little space.

I can deal with the occasional yelling customer-- I don't blame them and I have a goal of trying to help every one of them. I can deal with the stressed-out co-workers wringing their hands and wondering -- as I do-- how soon we'll be shown the door because we is n00bs and expendable. *shrug*

I can deal with my schedule changing every two weeks. I can deal with lunches and breaks which are magically rearranged between the time of clocking in and time for the first break. *gasp* I can even deal with the fact that we worker bees have no record of our clock-in times coming- and going- wise, but if we should venture from our cube for a personal break - even under two minutes-- we will get a memo with that detail high-lighted the following week.

May I go to the bathroom? Mother may I?
Yeah, I can deal with it.

I can't, however, deal with much more of the eye-watering depth-charge flatus from the guy in the next cube.

Srsly.
It's like a brown fog rolling over the cube wall, and there's absolutely no bloody circulation and especially no escaping it when I'm in the middle of a phone call, gagging. I'm going to get one of those odor neutralizing cans and set it up on the corner of the cube the next time he lets fly.

I suppose this must have been an episode of The Office, right? Is there some proscribed method for dealing with a rude gasbag? He doesn't seem intentionally rude, otherwise, but I really don't know how to broach the topic. I don't want to work next to him much longer, though. Ew.

14 comments:

Anonymous said...

heheh, you have fun with that.
BFVS

Anonymous said...

a fart on you thomas putnam.
heheh.

Anonymous said...

Do you have electrical outlets in/on/near your cubbie?
Get a small cheap fan of some sort (desk top or clamp on or . . ).
Install it so that it's;

fan->you->mr faltulant

with the fan blowing toward you & toward mr flatulant.

Good luck
B Woodman

Jay said...

Buy a milsurp gas mask with charcoal filters and hang it by the entrance to your cube.

Jon said...

Just your luck. Trapped in a cubicle with an SBD catastrophe waiting to happen.

What a tricky situation. If you say something, the old "the chicken that clucks first, usually laid the egg" line could be used. Lighting a match might lead to an explosion. A gas mask is much too obvious, although it would help. Falling to the floor with fake convulsions is too dramatic. I'm thinking the best approach is to tell him, in a quiet voice: "I will cold cock you and stick a cork up your ass if you don't do something about your gas". Smile while you say it, and discretely show him the gun in your purse.

staghounds said...

"A farting horse will never tire.

A farting man is the man to hire. "

Vinogirl said...

Gross!

Judy said...

Speaking as a wife of just such an afflicted man......it may not be anything he can control. My husband can produce "emissions" from the most benign meal, and no amount of Beano will stop it. He has actually written e-mails to his boss begging not be placed in small, enclosed areas with other employees so that they may be spared the resulting nausea. Since your company obviously frowns on this employee "stepping outside for a moment", he may feel he has no choice, and may be secretly dying of shame in the next cube.

Just sayin'.......

Mauser*Girl said...

You need two things:

1) Small electric fan, pointed so it will blow the stench AWAY from you. Perch on top of cubicle if possible, facing down toward the offender.

2) One of those "sprays every minute" air fresheners. Or several. Place along top of cubicle walls. Even better if you get a number of differently smelling ones. They now make one called "Moroccan bazaar", which (unfortunately) smells NOTHING like sweaty armpits, raw meat, and spices!

Jon said...

My mind boggles at the things that could be said:

-Did something crawl up your butt and die?

-Anchovies and jalapenos for lunch again?

-Maybe you should turn your hearing aid up, so you can hear yourself fart.

-Did you step on a barking spider?

-I had a neighbor that had the same problem. Of course, he'd been dead for a week.

-Oh, the horror.

I need to stop.

Christina LMT said...

Buy some gas-x melt-in-your-mouth strips at the nearest pharmacy, leave them on his desk, anonymously.

Hey, couldn't hurt, right?

rickn8or said...

Uh, could you find out for us what makes up this guy's diet?

Such information could be useful in the future.

Old NFO said...

Fan- 1000 or so horsepower should work... Maybe an Allison with a 4 bladed prop like in the WWII Mustangs... :-)

srsly, small fan pointing BACK at his cube.

Brigid said...

I'm for the fan idea.

Or you can borrow one of my biohazard suits.