It was 3:30pm on Wednesday, the time when I usually opted for one of the following scintillating activities at the office:
- Talking to Glen, the mail guy about his preference of packaging envelopes
- Purchasing a package of Babybel cheese from the corner store, and then eating all 5 cheese circles at the same sitting
- Reading a coworker’s boring baby blog, and then having a large angry man with a deep voice named Leroy read it back to me via Text to Voice online
- Purposefully trolling the office to find the douche bag who stole my lunch container
On this particular Wednesday, I was fully committed to activity number 4. I got up from my desk and darted toward the hallway. My coworker Jaime was there, so we started discussing the latest entry in the boring baby blog.
3:37pm Jaime: “Did you read Becky’s blog?”
3:38pm Me: “Yeah. She took a photo of herself by the fireplace holding her discounted subscription to US Weekly. She looked so happy.”
3:39pm Jaime: “Last week she wrote about going to a Powerpoint class and then to Kohls.”
3:39pm Me: “Lame.”
Then, something strange happened involving Don.
Don was another coworker, a 5”11, pudgy old white guy who generally hated people and looked like his body was chock full of Cheeze Whiz and products made by the Keebler Elves. It’s not that he was fat per se, but more of a slovenly, narrow-shouldered man whose pale neck jowls had not seen sunlight since the early 80s. He owned lots of sweater vests.
The Don incident went like this:
3:40pm: Don starts walking with authority down the hallway, and makes a beeline for Jaime and me.
3:41pm: Without speaking, Don grabs my hand. [Serious HR violation].
3:41pm: Still not saying a word, Don lifts my arm over my head and brings his face inches from my armpit. I believe he takes this time to smell my armpit. This too is an HR violation.
3:42pm: Don removes his face from my armpit crevice, and gives me a slow, creepy stare. “ALL CLEAN!” He exclaims, far too jubilantly.
It’s been over year since my armpit was violated, and I still have nightmares. Word on the street is that Don is a free man, still inhaling armpits whenever he gets a chance.
People like Don are everywhere, and if you’re not careful, they’ll prey on your vulnerable, pale, deodorant-smothered armpits too. Protect your armpits: wear sleeves.