I RACED to turn on the fan.
Heidi whispered to me, "I feel for you."
Dan said quietly, as he turned on his fan, "Yeah, smells like someone ripped one off just now."
I'LL SAY.
It was just last night that I was feeling guilty about sharing my thoughts about this coworker perhaps more often than is necessary, and I resolved to be more empathetic to whatever's going on with him. But then he goes and cracks one off right in front of the bosses. If I weren't so grossed out, I'd be giddy!
Later: Boundaries, people. We have scads of brand new boundaries flying around this joint. The Farter has asked me to "come out and help" without giving me a specific reason one too many times, and is now in Timeout. Now when he comes to my desk, expecting me to pop up as if spring-loaded, he gets a "What do you need help with?" which, judging by the sighs, he obviously finds annoying. Apparently I'm the chair maid, or something? I'm just supposed to sit there until I'm summoned? I'm never busy working or anything.
It's already bearing fruit; he's had to use his words and I've been able to help him solve his own problems a few times. It's not as fun as making me ask how high when he says "jump", I get that, but it's what he gets from now on.
Now, what was I saying about not complaining?
Evening: This handsome gent and his dorky wife go out for dinner
I'm hopefully joining a MARCHING BAND this spring. Stay tuned!