Back in what seemed like another lifetime when I was young, naive and carefree, I used to work at the front desk of a law firm that specialized in insurance/medical law. We saw some ridiculously funny and terribly sad cases come through those doors. Because of the nature of the work, I worked with some of the craziest people ever. I feel confident in saying that nearly everyone at that office was pretty god damn out of their minds. Including me, of course. (Once, during a holiday party, me and one of the secretaries were caught drinking cheap vodka in the closet. Neither of us were 21. Of course when I say “caught” I just mean laughed at. And then forced to share our cheap vodka because who the hell ordered ONLY beer and wine?!)

But the office, the parties, and the work are neither here nor there. It’s the crazy that I came to talk about.

Well, more accurately, what I thought then was crazy and now totally understand. And it has nothing to do with law and everything to do with office smell.

There was this one secretary who worked in the back. She was quiet and shy and kept mostly to herself. Except when a new person started. Then she would quickly introduce herself and tell you to leave all hand lotions, soaps, sanitizers, and air fresherners at home. And oh, no perfume in the office. She was ‘allergic to the smell’.

Which I later heard that no one knew if she was actually allergic or just didn’t want to be distracted by the smells (to her credit and despite the whole smell thing, she was a very dilligent worker).

At the time I was just beginning my long career as a Bath & Body Works/Victoria’s Secret/Body Shop lotion junkie and was horrified that I couldn’t bring my cute mini tube of Country Apple Smellums to work.

But only now, years later do I understand the brilliance behind all that crazy.

You see, we have a person in my current office who is partial to grandma rose scented room spray. Most room sprays say something to the effect of “spritz once (twice for a big room)” “use sparingly” “a little goes a long way”.

This person does NOT understand. Or just doesn’t read because out of nowhere in the middle of the day, suddenly you’ll hear “sprrrritzz ….. sprrritttttz ….sprrrrrrriiiiiiittttttttzzz…spritz, spritz…sprriiiitttttzzzzz”. Followed in two minutes by THE SMELL.

When it hits, this smell is heinous. Outloud a few of my coworkers and I remarked on how it smells like someone puked all over millions of roses and bottled it to be used as a torture device. Well maybe I made that comment. But it’s true.

May I also point out that my office is entirely contained within a building. READ: NO WINDOWS. (I think being cooped up in the smell box that is our office with no fresh air circulating makes us high because our typical response when we hear/smell the spray is to erupt in a fit of giggles.)

We make all of our dissatisfied comments outloud in clear range of the offender.* Most of the time the reaction is a chuckle and once I was told I had no taste. To which I responded Well dur. Not any more. Your nasty spray has burned off all my taste buds.

(Ok I didn’t respond with that. I was too high off the fumes to think of something that clever. I think I actually said “Me no likey.”)

NOW I GET IT. NOW I get the logic behind that secretary and her “allergy claims”.

Of course, I didn’t think of that right away and we all know that I really am NOT allergic. But I’m thinking a well played “I don’t feel well…I, I can’t breathe” after I “accidentally” and coincidentally scratch every inch of my body into a red, swollen mess might work. Dramatic clutching of the throat optional.

Ok I won’t really do that. But I won’t promise that I won’t swap out the rose-scented stuff for something a little more condusive to a work environment … like “unscented”.

*To be fair (BORING!) I should point out that since we’ve started airing our greivances, as it were, the room spritzing has been less frequent. But nobody wants to read that blog, stupid.