The boss's chair

The boss was in bright and early. Everyone who was already at their desk pretended to look super busy and all avoided meeting his gaze. The poor sod who got caught looking at him would be greeted with a huge smile and an invitation to breakfast, during which time a very boring conversation revolving around work would take place. The boss would also seek affirmation that he was doing everything correctly and that everyone who disagreed with him was a total idiot. New employees, especially vapid airheads, would be very eager to join him for breakfast, thinking they had been singled out due to their excellent work performance or their good looks. They quickly learned otherwise.

This morning, the boss didn't look very happy. Eight pairs of eyes peered at him over the top of workstations, wondering what he would do. Sometimes he would rant and rave for no reason, sometimes he would read some joke email and burst out laughing. He really is quite unpredictable.

The boss sat down, then immediately sprang up again.

"Someone's messed with my chair!" he roared.

Eight pairs of eyes looked down quickly, eight pairs of hands started typing furiously.

I risked a glance. The boss was sitting in his chair again, pulling the lever to adjust the height. Up he went, and he squished around a bit, deciding he wasn't comfortable. Down he came, again squishing around trying to get comfy. Finally he stood up and stared at the chair, then stared at us.

"This is not my chair," he concluded.

He took a step towards us.

Eight pairs of eyes glanced at each other. Blogs and other non-work-related websites were quickly shut down. Spreadsheets sprang onto screens. Some frowned at their PCs, trying to look totally absorbed in their work.

The boss walked around, looking at each chair carefully. He eventually came to my cubicle and stood behind me. I swung around.

"Good morning," I said cheerily.

"Is that my chair?" he growled.

"No sir, it's mine."

"It looks like mine."

I got up, just to save us both a lengthy debate on chair ownership rights.

He sat down. Finally concluded it wasn't his, and went off to the next victim.

Ten minutes later we heard him grumbling and mumbling as he made his way back to his own chair after realising that nobody had switched chairs with him. Perhaps he realised that nobody wanted to sit on his ass imprint.

But he had to save face. So he squished around uncomfortably in his chair, while proclaiming that he would "teach the bastard who stole my chair a lesson!"

Eight pairs of eyes glanced at each other, twinkling.

Till next time, this is Kucing Gatal signing out with an amused Meow.