Where I work, you can hear what goes on in most other cubes. So if someone is talking about their boyfriend or their girlfriend, you know all the juicy details — even if they’re three cubes away. Sound travels well here. When a new person moved into the corner office, I quickly learned more about her than I ever wanted to know. I knew how much she made, that she was looking for a job, her problems with her kids, and most interestingly of all, that she used a f*rting printer.
What’s that you say? Her printer makes the sound of a big, juicy, resonant flatulation when it prints. I don’t know the model number, but I think it’s an Epson. So as she’s printing off documents, I’m sitting here in my cube trying hard not to bust out laughing. I want to tell her that she needs to feed her printer some different printer cartridges. The current ones give it gas!
Then this morning I heard that same sound — the cheese being cut — from a different direction. Great. Now I’ll be surrounded by the sounds of windbreaking without any scents. That in itself is not bad, but it makes me dangerously used to it. When someone really does cut one, then my first response will be to ignore it, rather than immediately vacating the blast zone. I could end up inhaling some serious methane and getting all icked out!
