I am most definitely a woman! I wasn't sure earlier, but when Mr. Suave laid his fingers on my arms, my spine tingled. My wheels felt wobbly. If I hadn't regained my centre of gravity, I might have dropped him like a slippery ball bearing in greasy palms; much to the delight of his other male colleagues. That was the day I knew for sure, amidst green-eyed glares from the men and twinkle-eyed gazes from the ladies, that I was a woman!
Don't get me wrong; my cinched waist and shapely cushioned parts are a dead giveaway of my feminity. But that day I felt like a woman in my creaking heart! Go ahead and laugh at me. But I remain an office chair with a heart. And a large, comfy accommodating seat! So if you think your scoffing is going to make me all sniffly nosed, you are mistaken. I'm a stolid woman despite my four wheelie legs and tremulous appearance. I'm just like Ms. Smarty Pants.
Ms. Smarty Pants came and sat on me straight out of her graduation robes. She was confident and ready to ride the corporate surfboard. The world lay ahead of her like an open MacBook. All she had to do was key in the right bits and she could be laughing all the way to the manager's cabin. I loved her no-nonsense talk. When a leery colleague whispered,
" I'd like to see what lies under that rough exterior."
She quipped without missing a beat,
"How would you like to be kicked; in the front or posterior?"
You must be wondering where this story is going. It's catching the next flight to Switzerland! Bollywood style! And heartbreakingly I was mute witness to it. You might have guessed what happened by now. We are going to go through it in fast forward mode because I'm not in the mood to prolong my misery.
Lights came on, soft music magically picked up, a lilting breeze played with Ms. Smarty Pants' recently washed hair. Door opened; Mr Suave walked in. Eyes locked. End of story. Don't ask me how and why. These things do happen. Love happens. So basically what started off as a decaf office day ended up as a decadent frappe with ice cream on the top.
Although my heart was pinched, I did the right thing. I was calm. I supported her and never once did I let her down. I sat with her through hours and hours of hard work. After all she was my favourite person, who was in love with my favourite person. Then one day, she moved on to the manager's cabin. Deservedly, but she left a tear in my cushion! And I didn't get to see Mr. Suave anymore too!
Many people came after her. I don't even recognise some of them. Frankly speaking, I cannot be blamed, because all I ever get to see are rounded derrières! Mr. Ruthless Rake, Ms. Needy Nerd, Mrs Grandmother Huggard, Mr. Intrepid Roadie and Ms. Forever Forty were some of the lives I touched. Fine, I know I am romanticising! But the bottom line was that life was going at medium speed; with seat belts on and no speed breakers in sight.
Then one day a chubby bottle of chocolate sauce ran into the room. Imagine my surprise when I saw Ms. Smarty Pants and Mr. Suave running in after him. Then came the non stop questions.
"Is this where you started working, ma?"
"Was this your chair? Can I sit on it?"
"Turn it round and round, please! Yayyy! Faster, faster."
My head was reeling with the whirling and an unknown feeling. The frappe had chocolate sauce topping on it! I didn't mind the sticky hands or the incessant spinning around. I was dizzy and warm!
"Has it been so many years? Are the lines on my cushions because of age? I must start working out. And by the way, when I said 'end of story' earlier, I was talking only about them. My story goes on.
Mr. Googly Eyes, Ms. Straight-out-of-Vogue-Magazine, Mr. Still-want-my-Pacifier, Mrs. 80s Heroine, Mr. Fake Charmer...
