Although I work in a creative capacity, sometimes I have to attend these important-ish meetings. Meetings where people wear ties and panty hose.
Meetings where people use phrases like "penny wise and pound foolish" and where clients spew things like, "her photography makes me think deep, gloomy death thoughts."
Thankfully, I can coast through most of these meetings never having to say a word, just making a peep here and there, giving the impression that I am a team player and I know what the hell I'm doing. I mean, that's why they pay me the big bucks, right?
This morning, I was in a meeting that was a carryover from the night before. We spent two and a half hours discussing the tone of a certain print campaign, and could not agree on who we wanted to shoot it. We slept on it, reconvened this morning, and after two more hours of discussing WHY we didn't want "deep gloomy death thoughts" to ruin everyone's day...finally agreed on a photographer.
As I zoned out for the millionth time, a pungent aroma tickled my nostrils. Actually, I think it pummeled my nostrils...it was really strong, and reeked of bottled up fart.
It was my duty to figure out who cut this rather large piece of cheese, for lack of better things to do. I looked around the room and surveyed the area. There was my beautiful Aussie art director, who would never do such a thing. There was the quite puny suit guy, who couldn't make such a big smell if he tried. Then there was the young guy, fresh out of college, frat rat. It HAD to be him. He probably rips farts like it's his job, right?
Satisfied with my conclusion, I turned to the girl sitting next to me. Very skinny, stylish girl, eating a hard boiled egg. Eating a hard boiled egg that smelled really nasty. Like...you guessed it...a fart.
I apologize to the frat rat college guy for thinking that he dropped an F-bomb in our meeting. I hope he can forgive me.