Something great has happened at work today; I got a new(er) chair. Our technology director purchased a new comfortable leather number and she offered me her old chair. I reveled in sloppy seconds like a fat, hairy guy at a gang bang because my old chair was equipped with a low, nonadjustable back plate and a broken right arm. I wheeled that old tired bitch into an unused office where all broken-down corporate accessories go to die, shut the door and walked away with a smile, glad to be rid of it. My old chair was as uncomfortable as sex in the backseat of a 1984 Honda Accord. Currently my back is enjoying the additional support and my ass cheeks are snuggled warmly into ergonomically designed crevices. I am still holding out hope the company will come to its senses and gift its employees with some Aerons.

Labels: career, data slaughterhouse