So we had a little mini-party in our office today because the Office Max truck dropped off 4 rather large boxes labeled as "task chairs". Now, normally the delivery of boxes of furniture would not send an office into throes of extasy, but you have to understand our unique situation. The average age of the desk chairs in our building is only slightly younger than the fall of the Roman Empire, and I am convinced that at least one was the personal plaything of Caligula. They're ugly, uncomfortable, and smell of a mixture of body odor and solvent-based markers. Although the common folk 'round here had been bemoaning their sore backs and ruined white pants for years, there were always other priorities, as well as (I secretly suspect) some misplaced nostalgia for these relics among those with the final approval authority. Some took matters into their own hands and brought in their own personal chairs to avoid hours of torture at the hands of an antiquated piece of foam cusion. Others evolved special spinal muscles that prevented them from falling out of their broken, tilting, broken wheel seats.
Which makes it all the more clear why we brought out the champagne and cheese for the (very surprised) Office Max guy. At last! Salvation! Real chairs, with working wheels and little pneumatic systems that allowed them to be adjusted up and down with the simple press of a lever! Ah, the amazing advances made since the days of flint and stone! Mesh backs to encourage air circulation (air - you mean that stuff that doesn't smell like century-old petroleum-based foam?). They even boasted an even, clean, black fabric that didn't clash with the fabric or the walls, and looked as though it had been originally intended to be black.
We didn't even complain about the assembly or the instructions, which read as though they were written English, translated to Sanskrit through Icelandic and back to English. We fumbled with the confusing array of Allen wrenches, bizarrely shaped bolts and mysterious bits of plastic like kids trying to assemble their own bikes at Christmas. Wait for someone else to do it? Pah! We're designers, right, we can figure this out...
Too bad you all weren't there. It was darned funny.
Easy to laugh, though, sitting here in my new chair. Maybe now I can find some creative things to do with the old ones...
On a completely unrelated note, here are a few links I want to share:
Funny family pictures from a time we all remember too well...
This is a hilarous way to waste a whole day. Try looking at this blog (http://innerstitch.blogspot.com/) with the Sweedish Chef dialect. Read it out loud - loud enough for the guy in the next cube to hear. Come on, I dare you.
Here's a scan from another blog by GlenF with some of those "bad instructions" I mentioned earlier. These are classic. I especially like : "When you waste metal parts, keep away from small children to prevent from some injuries by them". I've always said kids are dangerous - it's about time someone listened.
Which makes it all the more clear why we brought out the champagne and cheese for the (very surprised) Office Max guy. At last! Salvation! Real chairs, with working wheels and little pneumatic systems that allowed them to be adjusted up and down with the simple press of a lever! Ah, the amazing advances made since the days of flint and stone! Mesh backs to encourage air circulation (air - you mean that stuff that doesn't smell like century-old petroleum-based foam?). They even boasted an even, clean, black fabric that didn't clash with the fabric or the walls, and looked as though it had been originally intended to be black.
We didn't even complain about the assembly or the instructions, which read as though they were written English, translated to Sanskrit through Icelandic and back to English. We fumbled with the confusing array of Allen wrenches, bizarrely shaped bolts and mysterious bits of plastic like kids trying to assemble their own bikes at Christmas. Wait for someone else to do it? Pah! We're designers, right, we can figure this out...
Too bad you all weren't there. It was darned funny.
Easy to laugh, though, sitting here in my new chair. Maybe now I can find some creative things to do with the old ones...
On a completely unrelated note, here are a few links I want to share:
Funny family pictures from a time we all remember too well...
This is a hilarous way to waste a whole day. Try looking at this blog (http://innerstitch.blogspot.com/) with the Sweedish Chef dialect. Read it out loud - loud enough for the guy in the next cube to hear. Come on, I dare you.
Here's a scan from another blog by GlenF with some of those "bad instructions" I mentioned earlier. These are classic. I especially like : "When you waste metal parts, keep away from small children to prevent from some injuries by them". I've always said kids are dangerous - it's about time someone listened.
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