The Aerie
Riding the elevator back from lunch, the doors open to the sound of an explosion.
>WAH-choo!<
A large group climbed aboard, along with a large fellow who paused before entering the elevator to sneeze again.
>WAH-choo!<
These were no timid, apologetic sneezes - these were real he-man, beef-eatin' sneezes. The elevator lobby rang with their power.
Then he climbed into the crowded elevator with the rest of us, asking for the button to be pushed for my floor, dabbing his sniffles with a handkerchief.
Now, in the smaller sense, he was courteous. Two floors later he stepped out when the elevator stopped to sneeze again.
>WAH-CHOO!<
But in a larger sense, what the hell was he doing here? Why would someone with such an awful cold bother coming in to work?
I'm getting too old, or maybe too jaded. It's been a long time since I've been able to care about work enough to come in to work when I'm sick. Or, to put it another way, any legitimate excuse I could give myself to skip work for a day, I'd probably take. This corporate-urgency mindset that businesses use to lash their workers into greater and greater measures of productivity is lost on my burned-out cynicism.
The next time the elevator stopped I got off, one floor lower than my stop. I just didn't want to be sharing air with him if he sneezed when he got off the elevator at our stop.
Sure enough as I climbed the stairs...
*ding* >>WHA-CHOO!<<
I waited a few moments after the lobby door beeped to let him through, then entered the empty elevator lobby and followed him into my area. As I came through the door, I wondered what was getting on my hand from the doorknob and resolved to wash my hands.
>WHA-CHOO!<
Across the cubicle field I could see his head bob out of sight and return as he sneezed. Did the blue-gray fabric of the nearby cubicles shivver at the blast? It may have been an illusion.
Then he headed into the bathroom. I waited at my desk nearby, not touching much.
>WHA-CHOO!< The sound from the bathroom reminded me of an M-80 firework detonated in a metal dumpster.
Finally he left the bathroom and I could head in nervously to wash my hands. I half expected to see tiles fallen from the wall and shattered on the floor, but everything was in order.
Now, normally I'm no hypochondriac... and six sneezes in five minutes does suggest allergies more than viruses to me. But just to be careful I washed my hands thoroughly, and hip-checked the handicapped button to open the door before returning to my desk.
The sound in the distance could have been another sneeze, or Krakatoa going off once again.
If it's a cold, that's one cold I really don't want to catch!
Posted by Albatross at January 24, 2006 1:25 PM | TrackBack