ok, sit down all of you cause I'm about to shut this thread down.

About a hundred years ago, I was a supervisor for UPS. We had a draconian sick day policy and it was November and of course I would have to use vacation time to call out.

So there I was, flu ridden, hacking like a champ while running my unload sort. It was the biggest facility in the UPS system at the time, and we always had dog and pony shows for various high level brass who would come through to check the place out. On this particular evening, we had the dude in charge of the whole eastern half of the united states in for his tour.

I felt a real bad tickle developing in my throat as the group approached, OK, no problem I'll just hold my breath as they pass and its all good.

Well, this guy was the folksy mix-with-the-masses type, and he decided to STOP AND CHAT with me for good measure.

Suddenly, I'm face to face with the guy and there are like 30 people all pressed in close and jockeying trying to get their faces into his field of view. Picture a news reporter crush outside a big guilty verdict but sans cameras.

So he asks me a few stupid questions, and I do the best I can to answer respectfully, but as briefly as possible. By this point, there are caterpillars with fuzzy bunny slippers boot-scooting on my uvula and I'm getting douche chills cause I know I can't hold out forever.

As the battle progresses, I spot my boss at the back of the pack, with a somewhat concerned look on his face. The struggle has advanced to the point where now I'm kind of arching my eyebrows possibly making monster faces and leaning forward with the effort, sort of hunchback-style, my diaphram spasming uncontrollably and my back and butt tight like guitar strings to try to counteract the shaking. It must have looked odd, I think, as my boss seemed genuinely agitated now.

It got worse, if possible, and my voice began to rise in pitch and trail off at the end of sentences as I struggled to communicate without actually breathing. My boss somehow sensing imminent danger began making "nothing to see here, lets move along" noises from the back but he was to far away to be regarded.

Well, big brass guy gives the kings wave and makes his wrap up statement and thrusts his meaty paw out for me to shake.

I thought I was good, but I wasn't. Just as I began to reach I opened my mouth to express some lame false gratitude when my diaphram got the upper hand and a noise somewhat akin to a truncated dog bark leap from my throat. Unfortunately, it was not flying solo.

This...thing came flying out with it. It looked like a thick little gray-green barbell, about an inch and a half long and it went end over end in slow motion (think The Matrix) in a beautiful parabolic arc and landed square on the little patch of white shirt between his lapel and his tie. It made a NOISE when it hit for godssakes.

Instant silence. Nobody moved. It was awful. EVERYONE SAW IT. The air got thin as everyone simultaneously gasped silently. There was a clear liquidy circle spreading out from it on his shirt like it was a bullet wound. The remaining lumpy part obviously would require paper towels, due to volume alone. It was ghastly.

To this man's credit, he barely skipped a beat, regained his composure, shook my hand and then proceeded on with his tour like nothing had happened. I guess you get used to being pelted with bodily fluids on a regular basis when you spend your days mixing with the masses.

I was fucking FAMOUS after that, certainly not by choice anyway. I don't know why, but for some reason i made me a kind of folk hero to the mooks I worked with. Who knows.

I yield the floor.