Open Bar's recent post reminded me of a story.
My first job out of college was in the claims department at a big insurance company.
It was a terribly boring job that basically consisted of walking around and having VPs sign off on things. There was also this one guy who was a real dick to me on the staff.
Anyway, the job sucked and I lasted about three months before I quit but when I quit, I gave two weeks notice - which, by the way, were not the most productive two weeks of my life.
Toward the end of those two weeks, I was coming into work on a Friday after much beer drinking and winging out so I truly had a full tank of gas in me. I walked into the building and soon made my way to the elevator and was the last one to get in before the doors closed.
Now, I worked on something like the nineteenth floor and at about the tenth floor I could feel some percolation, by fifteen, I knew a fart was there and by seventeen I knew it was going to be silent but violent.
I held it just long enough.
Upon the hearing of the 'ding' of my arrival and the doors cracking open - I let it fly - a stealth, putrid stinging mix of beer, chicken wings and hot sauce. I stepped out of the elevator, took about two steps and turned around just in time to see that this elevator full of people had just been hit my noxious scent.
I smiled as I watched the pain and revulsion on their faces coupled with pure disdain in my direction.
The doors closed.