Last week I attended yet another technical training course. Much as I loathe and detest these things, they have become an unavoidable evil in the engineering industry – a bit like my boss, actually. The only thing I have learned from attending scores of courses over the years is that death really doesn’t seem so bad after all.
There were a couple of apple polishers sitting in the front row who just LOVED making pointless observations. They seemed to think that they were impressing everyone with their extensive insight into the subject matter+, but judging from the long-suffering sighs I heard every time either of them asked a ‘question’++, most of the attendees were heartily sick of both of them by the end of the course.
To make matters worse, one of the women had doused herself copiously in Eau de Catpiss. She appeared to believe that this somehow made her more alluring, but in truth, the stench was so powerful that she would have been able to out-stink a flatulent camel with a bowel disease. I was afraid that the mucous membrane in my nose was going to melt. It left a bitter taste in the back of my throat and my nasal cavity shuddered in fear every time she walked into the lecture hall.
People, here’s a tip: if the varnish on a table starts to bubble and smoke when you walk past, then odds are that you’ve put on too much perfume.
+ In which case, what the fuck were they doing at the course in the first place?
++ i.e. “You know what I think…?”