Revenge of the Chair Snatchers

All the desk chairs are identical at the office. They are all German high quality ergonomic chairs with about 14 different knobs and levers designed to move the back, seat, height, etc... just so to ensure maximum comfort, and thus maximum productivity.

Oh, I've been productive all right. It took about 5 months of fiddling with those knobs and levers to get my seat just right. I'd spend half my day flipping the chair over, examining the physics of the hinges, studying the manual, measuring this trajectory and that angle, all to perfect my posture and the position of my wrists on my desk to ensure total comfort at my mouse and keyboard as I surf the NY Times and read Madness... Crossword and Otherwise to figure out where I went wrong this time. Also, to cheat when I'm stumped. But anyway, back to my chair.

I'd spend the other half just sitting, shifting my weight here and there, leaning in different directions, just testing it out to discover the perfect position so that when I do have actual work to do, I won't be spending time adjusting anything.

I walked in on Sunday after having spent the majority of last week at the chemical poo fiasco and plopped my bottom on my perfect chair, only to discover something was horribly wrong. The back was too far from the seat. The chair was suddenly 15 inches off the ground.

This was not my chair.

Now, as aforementioned, all the chairs are identical. So basically, I would have to sift through about 150 or so chairs on my floor just to maybe find one that was close to my perfection, if not my actual chair.

Did I throw a tantrum? Of course I did. I turned purple and ate the poor skinny fellow who had the misfortune to be seated next to the Man-Eating Chair Obsessed Bounty Hunter. How dare he not protect my chair? I then vomited his remains all over the plumper fellow who sat across him, while wondering why I didn't eat him instead. He has a lot more cushion to savour. Damn it, I hate having to choose when angry.

The purple then turned to an alternating orange and green hue as I prowled the floor, looking for my coveted chair. The minions scattered, allowing me plenty of space to test out their chairs, and of course smash the ones that did not suit my fancy. As you can imagine, a lot of black plastic and mesh was flying out of the 14th floor windows. And walls.

To cut a long story short, I never found my chair. I did take someone else's and come pretty close to my old level of comfort, but it wasn't mine. Sigh...

You'd think after being terrorized so violently they'd learn not to touch my new chair, right?

Today I walked in and plopped my bottom on my not-so-perfect chair, only to discover something was horribly wrong. It was 7 inches higher than my desk. And the left arm was broken. Some people never learn.

Now they're all my office chair slave bitches, doing all the lifting and pushing for me as I sit majestically on my chair, barking orders to move an inch forward, no half and inch back, higher, no not so high, etc... I realize now that I should have done it this way the first time around. I highly recommend the use of office slave bitches.

It's good to be the Empress.