My Chair

For better or worse, the office I work in has been partially furnished by the resale shop that we run.

From the badly stained conference chairs and faded pictures to the ancient hand-me-down computers, parts of this office are embarrassingly shabby.

As such, I inherited a second hand chair from the store. This chair appears to be perfectly acceptable, but do not be deceived. It is broken, nonadjustable, and more importantly, it smells like butt.

When I first started working, a mysterious stench periodically wafted up to my nose. Thoughts of a serious b.o. problem paralyzed me with social anxiety. Had I been walking around my new office meeting people while smelling like a cigarette stubbed in a dirty diaper? I was horrified and dutifully came to work ultra clean the next day. Alas, this did not remedy the problem.

I thought it might be my feet, but rarely do feet smell like stale cigarette smoke and farts, but perhaps the person who worked here before rubbed their smelly feet all over the carpet leaving an indelible odor. After some serious smell-testing, I concluded that none of these assumptions were correct.

However, I soon deduced the odor to be emanating from The Chair. The very Chair that I perch upon each day while completing the most menial of tasks. This most essential Chair has since undergone a series of odor eliminating processes.


Step 1: Douse with Febreeze. Result: No lasting effect.

Step 2: Spray w/ baking soda. Result: White residue on backside.

Step 3: Burn. Result: ??