Us enginerds are a sturdy lot. We can make the most out of the shoes for a long time. We can work the polo shirt we first debuted in 1996. And, with few exceptions, we eschew the need to odoriferise with anything other than fresh soap. This leaves the building generally smelling neutral. It does not have the rampant funk that might exist in our garage (nor in our rental car after 10 hours, an Arby-Q, and a bag of Teriyaki beef jerky). However, it does not smell artificially enhanced by colognes and the like. It used to be that way throughout the whole building. The first floor is now free of this odor-neutrality.
You see, Purchasing moved in. The folks in Purchasing both know how to, and choose to, dress better. The men are overt metrosexuals. The women exhibit fashions from years that begin with the number 2. It is a different dynamic. It truly reminds me of when we had Engineering classes in the Business building while in college. I would go in wearing whatever grungy outfit was available. It wasn’t always clean either, depending on when I had last departed the machine shop. My compatriots were not much better. But the Business students, they had on button-down shirts, their hair was coiffed by something other than their pillowcase or the arm of the couch. I digress. Purchasing splits the Engineering area from the CAD area. The CAD area is another bastion of simple smells and thus provides comfort.
Well, initially when Purchasing settled in I was unnerved. I hesitated to cut through the centre of their cubicle fortress. I would retreat to the periphery and walk further to get to the CAD department. One day I finally caved. You see, due to the floor layout and previous building expansions, one wall of the Purchasing area is an actual wall despite the fact there are merely cubicles on the other side. I ducked in out of the main hallway through one of the doorways in an effort to shave some steps off my trip. I was immediately bombarded by odors I had not encountered in the building. I steadied myself against a cubicle wall and diverted the schnozz upwards while sniffing heartily. It smelled like a Bath and Body Works! There is no way that this could be near Engineering. I held my breath and hurried out of there, hoping that none of the Buyers would smell me as an infiltrator.
Over time I more often cut through there. It was not to save my feet, but so much as to encounter the smells. I found that I smiled every time I went through there. It was that pervasive. The description of this cloister can only be one thing – Engineeromatherapy. It is nothing in particular, but an aggregate smell that causes left-brained lugs to become placid. Now if you excuse me, it is time for my Exacto knife manicure (hey – a boy can’t let all of himself disappear).
Smellin’ the dream,