In the office BO thread, someone mentioned popcorn poppers. I know what they were talking about.
Those thoughtless assholes who nuke popcorn in the breakroom (or if applicable, lobby/foyer/lounge/etc), thereby wafting the salty scent of microwave popcorn throughout a 3km blast radius of buttery goodness.
Now I, for one, crave popcorn. I love the smell of it. But I hate the smell of it when it’s a quarter past four and I’m in the middle of combinatorial algorithms… which brings me to my next point, as this class was in the education building.
Now I understand that education is a social function, but that doesn’t mean that you have to sit around in the hallway all damn day and yammer loudly about, what? Did I hear that right? Your POSTER PROJECT? You’re getting a B.what?
This would make sense if it were coordinating a poster project for grade schoolers, or even a little if you were MAKING a poster at a grade school level. No, no, no. You’re making a poster on Darth Vader… as part of a film project.
But I’m off topic. We’re trying to have a class in here! This is a University. Go to the SUB, or the coffee shop that is 50 feet away. Just get the hell away from the door!
In this class that I had, we had to routinely (i.e. about twice per one-hour class) ask the education students in the hallway to shut the fuck up.
I work in a sizeable office and my cube is about 20 feet from the kitchen. One time last fall, someone accidentally burned popcorn in the microwave and my eyes were fucking watering from the smoke. I could smell that shit for weeks, I swear.
And while I’m on the subject, what’s up with the people who bring the freakin’ seafood platter with them for lunch? Judging by the smell, they’re microwaving the goddamn ocean in there.
For those of us who sit near the kitchen, PLEASE eat a sandwich for god’s sake!
What pisses me off is that at my last job, I was yelled at for eating oatmeal out of a styrofoam cup while someone was bringing a bag of popcorn from the breakroom to their desk. Instant oatmeal basically has no smell, but you can smell popcorn a mile away. That was the day I turned in my notice.
Personally, I was glad when the microwave suddenly disappeared from the Teacher Workroom at my school. The workroom is right across the hall from my classroom, so now I no longer have to smell popcorn and shitty-ass Lean Fucking Cuisines all day.
gah-even worse, Budget Gourmet. We used to have a girl that cooked them every day. Either Used Tire Carbonera or Alpo Pilaf. And that shit wafted all over the office, like someone nuked friggin’ roadkill.
I also sat next to a microwave that was used every afternoon to cook sour cream and chive popcorn. Now that is a truly nauseating smell-I rejoiced when he was laid off!
I thought the popcorn smellin’ days at my office were over when Popcorn Lady got laid off, but I was wrong. So very, very wrong.
She used to yammer on and on about how she liked her snacks “salty, not sweet” every fucking day. Salty, not sweet. SALTY not sweet. SALTY NOT SWEET SALTYNOTSWEETSALTYNOTSWEET! Say it one more fucking time because MAYBE the whole company hasn’t heard you yet! If I was a religious person I might think God Himself was punishing me for wishing Bad Things upon Popcorn Lady, because the pleasure of my office NOT smelling like a movie theatre lasted only a few short days before I saw (smelled, really) that someone had stepped into the vacant position of ‘Person Who Stinks Up The Entire Fucking Office With Popcorn’ and guess what? I sit RIGHT FUCKIN NEXT TO HIM. And NO, I DON’T WANT ANY OF YOUR SMELLY POPCORN! ESPECIALLY NOT SINCE YOU’VE HAD YOUR GRUBBY HAND GRUSTLING AROUND IN THERE FOR THE LAST TEN MINUTES!
GAAAH! I work at a fucking movie theater! And I HATE popcorn! Hate it, hate it, hate it! My clothes constantly stink of popcorn and butterfat, I have little pieces of popcorn crap all over the soles of my shoes, which I carry home with me so I can have popcorn all over my house. And the idiot staff members we have always burn the damn stuff, so the whole place stinks. I have to run into the projection booths just to get a whiff of the Mexican food wafting through the vents from downstairs.
I know I deserve this for working such a shitty job. But I’m not qualified to do anything else.
At least it ain’t squid.
