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
- Â Reading a coworkerâ€™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 Â 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 Beckyâ€™s blog?”
3:38pm Me: Â “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 Â 5â€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. Itâ€™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 Â 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.Â â€œALL CLEAN!â€ He exclaims, far too jubilantly.
Itâ€™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.