I share a number of characteristic with the comic strip character Dilbert.
First, I'm an engineer. In fact, I'm an electrical engineer - though essentially I have never worked a day in my life AS an electrical engineer. I do software - software on those little bitty chips inside of controls. It's pretty cool if you are a nerd like me. Please note that I blame any terrible writing on the fact that I'm an engineer - not a writer. Engineers typically don't write. It's tradition.
Second, like Dilbert, I have no control over my life. Unlike Dilbert, this lack of control is not made manifest in a tie that won't lay down. In fact, I don't do ties. They don't go with T-shirts and polo shirts. Even I, an engineer, knows this. Everyone else, STOP BUGGING ME TO WEAR A TIE.
No, my lack of control over my life is instead made manifest in another seemingly innocuous item: the office chair. Office chairs are out to kill me. Can you imagine how frightening my day must be knowing that the chairs are trying to kill me? Despite how easy I may make it seam on the outside, it is not easy being me. I'm a mess.
Lets run through a couple of the evil office chair's common tactics. I've named them for future reference.
1. The Pinch
This is the office chair's number one attack method. Somehow, no matter what height my desk is, or the height of my chair is, the chair - the evil chair - manages to find a way to pinch my hand or arm between the chair and the desk. How does it do this? Easy. The chair waits until I'm not paying attention and then instructs one of my office mates to run up behind me and ram the chair (and me) forward until it is stopped by my hand being wedged between the chair and the desk. Ouch! Bad chair. Other times, the chair waits patiently (it's amazing how patient certain inanimate objects can be) until a hand, finger, or little piece of skin is between the chair and the desk. The chair then activates the "shock absorber" feature of the chair to slightly raise the chair...thus painfully trapping my errant appendage.
2. The Press
This stunt is the office chair's equivalent of a bear trap. While I would probably be well suited for one of those ergonomic chairs that make it look kind of like you are kneeling down to pray to your computer, I don't have one. Also, I don't pray to my computer. I like to think I have power of IT. Additionally, I'm not shelling out the kind of dough those fancy chairs go for. However, I do generally sit with my feet tucked under my chair, propped up on the horizontal legs under the chair that the casters are attached to. Well, the evil office chair has clearly evolved to take this into account. My particular chair moved evolved its little lever that adjusts seat height to a location fully under the seat, near the center post, and down a bit...just over were my feet rest. I think you can see where this is going.
While sitting on my seat, with my feat tucked underneath me, I frequently am coerced by the nefarious chair to "bump" that little lever with my heel. This is like the little trigger portion of the bear trap without the yummy steak! What happens next is rapid and horrifying. The chair, accelerated by gravity and the weight of my body sitting ON the chair, instantly snaps down to its lowest height setting. Funny so far? The problem is, this results in my foot being trapped between the feet of the chair and the top of the chair. I can't stand up, because my foot is trapped, and I can't get the chair to go back up because you can't do that without lifting your weight off the chair (already not possible) and letting the chair go DOWN just a little bit more. This is also incredibly painful. I generally end up face down on my office floor trying to shake the bear trap...er...chair...off my foot as I am biting down on my teeth in an effort not to yell out something inappropriate, while pens, pencils and paperwork are flying everywhere in my struggle to get free.
The chair is evil. Clearly.
3. The Grab
"The Grab", as I like to call it is performed by the wheels of the chair. Cleverly, the wheels apparently adjust their size to EXACTLY match the loop size in my shoelaces. The wheels do this so that very slowly and stealthily, they can grab my shoelace loop and very carefully (and quietly) wrap them around the wheel. Then, if I stand up, or need to move the chair to get into my file cabinet, the chair SPRINGS INTO ACTION and jams the shoelace up into the little cover that surrounds the wheel, firmly capturing the shoelace. If I'm lucky, at this point, I only have the chair attached to me and being dragged behind me by my shoelace. If I'm lucky. This attack can be thwarted, usually, by untying my shoe and pulling the shoelace through the wheel. Other times, I'm not so lucky and I'm again down on the floor, face first, wondering what hit me.
The worst part of "The Grab" is that it occasionally works in conjunction with the other attacks of the chair. Worst case, the attack sequence begins with "The Pinch." The sudden and extreme pain of my hand or a finger being jammed between the top of the armrest and the bottom of my desk will force me to push back on the chair to free my hand. This is often all the chair needs to finish the job of ensnaring my shoelace, causing the chair to SUDDENLY stop moving backwards. This has the effect of throwing me slightly FORWARD in relation to the chair, which nearly always results in my heel raising slightly...just enough to trip the "The Press." Remember, I am already in a slight forward motion, and as the chair crashes down, it traps my OTHER foot as described in point #2. However, with that forward motion, I'm guaranteed to be GOING DOWN. The chair shoots out behind me taking both of my feet with it, I'm heading face down to the floor...AGAIN...and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Oh, yeah - pens, pencils, sharp objects, reference books, diet Dr. Pepper and paperwork are flying everywhere in the violent struggle that ensues.
At this point, all I can hope for is that I don't hit my head on the desk on the way down, or that something sharp (like scissors) doesn't land on me, or something heavy (like a book), doesn't hit me in the head. If you are keeping track of the falling objects and my desk, you'll see that I have a two out of three chance of being knocked unconscious. Unconscious.
Without fail, when THIS happens, as the materials that were once on my desk come fluttering down around my prone and nearly lifeless form, the tipped over Dr. Pepper slowly pouring it's contents on my head, SOMEONE will come around the corner to my work area and say something clever like, "are you coming to this meeting or WHAT??!!!"
I have no control over my life.
