10.06.2008

Wired

What a day! Fuzzy and buzzy and distracted most of the day and ended up losing (1) my access card for work on my lunch hour while running to catch the train (which I did not catch, to the amusement of a group of SLC workmen), and (2) my daughter (subsequently found, no worries). It was just that kind of day. I made two trips up to the 21st floor war rooms today and both times either forgot certain necessary files or brought the wrong ones altogether. And trips to the 21st floor are not trips I like to repeat, as the "priority service" elevator (total misnomer) takes forfuckingever and once you finally make it up you step out into the lobby, which is akin to stepping into the sweaty, hairy armpits of a giant hobo with raging body odor. You know this kind of body odor: the kind that lingers, that prickles your olfactory senses 5 stops past where the b.o. offender (b.o.o.) got off the train. And no matter how big of a breath I manage to draw in before stepping off that elevator, it's never quite enough to get me to the office doors, get them unlocked with the special key while balancing an unruly stack of files, and get safely to the other side. Where, strangely, it doesn't smell like b.o. at all. And then you wonder if the lobby really smells that bad. And then you finish your business in the war rooms and go back to the elevator in the lobby and realize yes, yes it is that bad. Its actually worse than you thought. Or maybe it just gets worse all the time. Perhaps it is a constantly evolving b.o., not unlike b.o. left untreated on human specimens. It's absolutely offensive. And the Utah Sports Commission and some other kind of place share the very-swanky office on the other half of the 21st floor, and thus use said b.o. lobby. And I really don't understand why they don't do something, except for maybe they just don't notice. (But how could they NOT notice?? Seriously.) I actually had a discussion one day with a guy who was waiting in the b.o. lobby with me for the "priority service" elevator (the whole situation is just a nightmare, really), and he asked what was wrong, presumably because I was burying my face in my sleeve.

"I just can't handle the smell in the lobby," I say.
"Oh," he says. "I guess I never noticed."
"Do you work here?" I ask.
"Yeah, for the Commission."
"And you NEVER noticed that it smells like b.o. right here?"
"B.O.? Really?" He's honestly surprised and thoughtful for a moment. "Hmm. Nope, I'm probably just immune."

At which point I realize I don't like this guy. Mainly because he started a conversation with me that required me to breathe the b.o. air rather than the Downy-freshness of my sleeve, and then just rubs it in further by being all nonchalant about this VILE, RANCID LOBBY OF DEATH. Like I'm the crazy one. No guy, maybe the acrid stench of this lobby has burned out all of the cells inside your nose, but I am NOT crazy. It could win "Stinkiest Lobby in the Entire World" contests. That's how damn stinky.

Anyway. So it was that kind of day. But I did get some new and fantastic bras from my neighbor, which was a total score. And - major development - I'm writing this from my home computer (old girl's still chugging along, if a big sluggish), after finally buying the wireless card and bribing the downstairs neighbor with a poster of Salt Lake from the '70's that I found at Sam Weller's (they're pretty cool, and only $5.00!) to come and do the hi-tech savvy stuff that I can never figure out. So now we're all up and running and I am able to really ramble (watchout!) as I look at my view of the Capitol all lit up at night just out the windows behind the monitor. Ahh. Life is nice and calm up here in my little computer room in the little city so far away from the life I used to know...

2 comments:

MUG said...

B.O.O. lobby? Now I am just plain curious, I've never been up there, but now after this hilarious rant I think I must go up there and breath a bit just to get the full affect.

Michelle Cerutti said...

Well, perhaps as part of your litigation training you can accompany me to the 21st floor war room. I need to go tomorrow actually. (Well, I needed to go today but have put it off all day. Because I hate going up there. Because of the B.O. lobby.) Just let me know when you're ready for some stink and we'll take a ride.