Fart machine

At our staff meeting on Wednesday, my boss of all people taped one of those remote control fart machines under the chair of one of my coworkers.
And it was funny. Less so for the obvious reasons and more so because she was just so into it. And because another coworker was trying to make a presentation and it was just as he began his that she began hers.
How bizarre. What a challenge to deal with. And it was sad or hard to deal with–this was a very big deal for him, this presentation.


I don’t know what possessed her. Well, then I went to my session of Diversity training. EVERYONE has to go. This also is a pretty big deal. I don’t think the bank has done anything this thorough before.
There were fifteen people in my training, a lot of techies–ACAPS, Hogan, credit card, ecommerce developers and administrators, but also a personal banker and a regional retail manager.
The retail manager brought some great insights like that the largest group of employees are tellers, that by far the majority of the bank’s employees are women, that in his urban region there is a vast diversity of cultures and languages. Muslims bankers. Prayer breakers. Twenty languages spoken at a branch, that sort of thing.
During the diversity training break, I went back to my cubicle to check phone messages, and around the corner comes a group of my coworkers, giggling and laughing. They had walked around setting off the fart machine on the unsuspecting. Twenty-, thirty-, forty-, and fifty-something year-old men. Convulsing with laughter.
I returned to diversity training.