Every year Fall in the Rockies represents a wardrobe tap dance in that one must wear a light jacket or sweatshirt in the mornings then into regular summer gear by late morning. It was 43 degrees this morning but will climb to 84 by the afternoon. While beautiful, quick change artistry is not my strong suit. I’d prefer to remain in my clothing selection until my return to the hovel and collapse in a heap. Not to worry though, prior to getting horizontal my selected shirt goes back into the weekly rotation to air out.
I mention this only because next week is ‘Personal Hygiene Week’ sponsored by the good folks at Proctor and Gamble. There are a few of you (and you know who you are) that could use a hot shower! Once a month won’t kill you!
I’m sort of happy about this because the ‘Old Spice’ product line represents a tradition passed from father to son. The timeless ‘manly’ fragrance immediately takes one back to Prom night, the first time you got tongue, or the night you lost your virginity, as the smell of Old Spice mixed with female plasma seepage is something one never forgets! I’ve never understood why this pheromone rich aroma has yet to be marketed.
While personal hygiene is certainly personal, but if neglected or even delayed for a time it no longer is personal and begins to be offensive! When allowed to permeate and waft through the air we share body odors mixed with stale egg salad or coffee nearly always triggers a gag reflex. I’m not fond of that. Once this sacred trust is compromised, it’s not uncommon to let the offender have the chance for redemption. I suspect this is more cowardice than anything else. No one seeks to deliverer such news especially to someone you’re forced to see daily. It’s easier to hold your nose and walk away, than to risk pissing off a co-worker or maybe even your boss. Unfortunately, this meek & mild approach rarely works. Instead, it allows the offender to keep offending simply because they’re ignorant to their condition. THEY’RE UNABLE TO SMELL THEIR OWN ASS!
In my early career as a Sales Manager I was able to finally hire an (“in the parlance of our times”) ‘Assistant’ to keep things organized and moving while being on the road weeks at a time. I hired Melanie who was smart and pretty but dressed “Hippy Chick” style nearly always wearing sandals. For the first month she did a great job and looked as though she’d be a good fit.
After returning from a four week road trip I was met at the door by my counterpart Arnie the Professional Measurement Sales Manager who immediately took me aside to tell me Melanie stinks! Not just a foul case of flatulence either, rather she was going on a week straight emitting the most dishonorable, fetid, and vile offering my ole factories have ever been subjected to. It wasn’t your typical body order that one would expect either; you literally could smell rotting fish ten feet away! She was oblivious and I was elected to inform her of this condition.
Breathing in from my mouth I briefly explained she had a hygiene problem. She stared at me in disbelief! She became so incensed and embarrassed she denied having a problem, and without so much as a tear quit and left in a huff. A week later I was called into a meeting with the Labor Board!
I later found out she had a severe case of Vaginosis! “The cause of this bacterial imbalance is not well understood. Bacterial Vaginosis can occur in women who douche frequently or have conditions that lower the normal amount of vaginal lactobacilli. Common conditions that could lower lactobacilli include use of antibiotics, chemical irritants in douches, or use of feminine-hygiene products. Odor after sex may be more prominent.” Fortunately I had plenty of witnesses backing my story to the Labor Board.
The moral of this story is simple. When a co-worker smells of rotted fish, head out early for that road trip or perhaps it’s time for a vacation. Roll on an extra dab of Old Spice and just get out!