Assholes are us! Another fucking problem #9

Or — Stanky coworker ASSaults my nose

Photo by Gaurav Dhwaj Khadka on Unsplash

Dear Aunty Asshole,

I have a fucking problem.

Yeah, no shit. Why else would I be writing to you?

Here’s the issue. I have a coworker I share an office with, and I must say the smells he creates are damn near corporate fucking torture.

He is super nice and totally a sweetheart, but good lord, the smells I endure.

This smelly bastard is allergic to showers and has never heard of deodorant. There’s an underlying scent of BO wafting from his desk.

Now, this would be bad enough, but that is on top of the odor of whatever the fuck he eats. This dude keeps a crockpot on his desk and every morning fills it with some of the worst-smelling garbage I’ve ever smelled.

I’m pretty sure he eats a steady diet of roadkill soaked in garlic, wrapped in dirty socks, stewed with cabbage, brussel sprouts, seasoned with patchouli, and possibly using nut sack sweat as the liquid.

This shit sits all morning, slowly heating up and adding to the armpit aroma that permeates the space.

This would be bad enough, but whatever this devil’s stew he eats gives him rancid fucking farts all afternoon. I’m talking peel the paint from the wall and burn your nose hair stank.

I swear the dude must shit his pants or something, the way the smells just linger.

I love my job, but the nasal warfare I endure every day is becoming a living nightmare. This toxic poop-pouri is making my days miserable.

Please help me, Aunty Asshole. How do I handle this? I can’t stand this olfactory assault much longer, but I have no fucking clue what to do.

Sincerely,

Assaulted by the Unholy Hurricane of Smells

Dear Assaulted -

Aunty Asshole here. Look, I’m not sure I can help you with this fucking annoyance, but let me give you my unedited advice anyway.

Advice is like assholes, everyone thinks theirs is the best.

Or something like that. Shit. Maybe it’s actually: “Opinions are like assholes?”

Fuck. I dunno.

Listen. There are some fuckers out there in the world who just have no couth. It’s like they believe everyone wants to be on the same nasal journey as themselves and have no concern for those around them.

That being said, you truly have a shitler in your tiny shared space.

Sounds like he takes every opportunity to make your life a living hell, and I have to wonder if there’s something you may have done to encourage or cause this smelly retribution.

In your defense and playing your advocate, though, I believe you are innocent in this continual communal assault on your senses.

I would suggest setting an open can of anchovies under some papers in a drawer of his, but it sounds like that couldn’t compete with the smells you are inundated with almost daily. And, let’s be honest, you would end up being tortured by the smell, once again.

Have you gone to HR about this repeated torture of the shared air around you? It’s not a stretch to say that if you are in it every day, you are smelling like it, too.

Sounds to me like he’s nose-blind and truly believes there’s no issue with his body odor, choice of roadkill cafe entrees, and lack of spatial awareness that may need to be addressed by your friendly neighborhood HR manager.

Maybe you can go to the local dollar store, purchase some hygiene products, and slip them into his backpack when he’s away from his desk? I know it’s an investment, but it’s a GOOD investment if he uses them.

Can you ask to be moved to another space in the office, or are you stuck in this fucking box with this dude because of similar job descriptions?

As an HR manager myself, I can tell you I would take on the mantle and tell Mr. Stanky that he needs to be aware of his surroundings and those who share his workspace, for the very fact that not everyone enjoys raccoon roadkill roasting in a crockpot every day.

The only other option I can readily think of is perhaps investing in some Febreeze* and spraying it throughout the day in your area to give your poor nose a break. It’s not fair, and it’s not a sure fix, but maybe changing up the smell from shit-his-pants to shitrus might help.

And if he claims to be allergic to the scent, you can tell him that you find you are allergic to whatever is being “cooked” in that infernal crockpot.

I know it’s fuck-all from me, but other than just blasting him with floral scented room spray, there doesn’t seem to be much you can do.

Good luck with this one, dear soul.

Fuck this fucker with some passive-aggressive perfumery of your own, if possible and if you can stand it. That’s the best advice I have this morning.

Sincerely,

Auntie Asshole of Arizona

Jimbo Jensen is awesome because he gets to feed the Queen from his (new) crockpot and she stays with him!!!