The Eulogy of an Office Chair (1994-2002)

Dear Model 549-L784,

We lost you on a cold, wintry November afternoon.

While writing a legal brief at the computer, your armrest snapped, spilling me out onto the rug. And as I lie there on the floor - flailing about, arms akimbo, cursing profusely - I knew that no matter how much duct tape I had in the mess drawer, I'd never sit upon you again.

So today you’ve been upgraded to a better model – one with leather padding.
I realize that your 15-year warranty claimed that you possessed “Unsurpassed Seating Comfort for the Home or Workplace”, but, honestly, we both knew better.

'Ergonomics, schmergonomics' was your motto. And with a healthy lumbar region, who was I to quibble? Well now that I'm a little older, and the ol' back isn't what it used to be, frankly it's if you're nothing but a cloth-covered cinder block.

But we've had a heckuva run, haven't we?
Hey, remember that time we had those chair races up and down the halls with the other students in the dorm? Or the time I spun around in your seat as fast as I could until I puked? Or the time I spilled cherry Kool-Aid on your cushion? We both laughed 'til we cried.

Ah, good times.
There are all kinds of reasons you broke down. Maybe you gave out because we both became complacent with our relationship. Maybe it was because it’s weird that your owner personified an office chair. But most likely it’s because I put you together wrong when I got you for Christmas in 1994. But that can hardly be blamed on me – the assembly instructions were all in German or French.

But that’s all behind us.
So thanks to an Office Depot ad in the Sunday paper, I’ve purchased someone else. And she’s good to me.
The specs are all there – Contoured Seat and Back with Lumbar Support, Pneumatic Gas Height Adjustment, Swivel and Tilt Mechanism, Imported Leather with Fire Retardant Foam, and Five-Star Arched Nylon Base with Twin Wheel Casters.
These are things you could not offer, so I decided to put you out of misery. I’m sorry there was no appropriate way to dispose of you. A proper burial was not available and you were too big to flush. And having a rummage sale in this part of town would just get us both mugged and shot.

So I took you to the Dumpster with the rest of the daily garbage. No doubt you will be crushed by a large compactor at the dump. But who knows? Maybe recycling is in your future.

Non scholae, sed vitae discimus: 'We don't learn from school, but from life'. Perhaps if office supplies had graveyards, this is what your headstone epitaph would read. Quidquid latine dictum sit, altum viditur, indeed.
But for now, friend, fare thee well.

Rest In Pieces.

Originally written 11-18-02.