AMONG the three types of office workers—those who work hard, those who play hard, and those who filch paperclips—very few pay attention to office furniture.
Which is expected.
After all, the first are too busy to waste their precious time thinking about them, the second are preoccupied with watching the clock, while the third are always keeping their eyes peeled for the latest delivery of office supplies.
Since I am an underemployed, self-proclaimed comedian masquerading as a mid-level pencil pusher by day, I naturally fall under the second category.
However, unlike those who forget about the job the minute the clock strikes five, I nevertheless care deeply and profoundly about one aspect of my day job: my chair.
Yes, ladies and lesbians, gays and gentlemen, just about the only thing that keeps me from quitting my job and strangling a few of my co-workers is a chair, a device, usually mechanical, which filters noxious gases emanating from your posterior once you sit on it.
Besides helping me endure more than my fair share of boring meetings, the current chair that I use—which is fitted with wheels—also assists me in zipping in and out of my cubicle, useful whenever evading superiors bearing nothing but bad news, additional work, and the latest memo from HR.
Although the chair itself is nothing special—just the standard issue found in corporate Makati sweatshops—mine features an expansive backrest, allowing me to lean further backwards without thinking about chiropractors.
And once my feet is up on my desk, no office-related emergency can ever faze me.
Employees may call a strike, management may decide to shutter operations, and the office may catch fire but if I’m sitting on that chair, I feel like a true-blue professional, someone who renders productive work eight hours a day for five days a week.
Unfortunately, for the past workweek, I have been denied of my right to pretend to work and possibly reduce the company’s productivity. This is because my chair—the same one I had been using for the past three months—has disappeared.
Since I have been forced to settle with a lesser chair—one with a shorter backrest—the loss has deprived me of my afternoon naps, a privilege perhaps now enjoyed by the person who appropriated my chair.
Although I have already issued verbal complaints about this incident, management so far has not taken any action. If this continues for the next month or so, I may either have to request a new chair or get myself a new job.
