Larry was an interesting guy to work with - if you interpret “interesting” to mean “very freaking weird”. I was assigned to assist him as a temp proofreader at a large engineering firm. Tall and gangly, Larry immediately stood out from the other people in our department in two distinct ways:
First, Larry did not sit to work - not ever. He had an adjustable-height drafting table that he raised to its maximum level, somewhat above his waist. He leaned over this table as he marked up documents, seemingly content to go about his daily tasks in this awkward posture. There wasn’t even a chair in his cubicle - I think he had it banished. After a few days of working with him, I asked the inevitable question:
“Hey Larry - do you... do you ever sit down?”
I’m sure this was a question he’d heard many times before, but he played it off as if he were shocked at my inquiry. In his cackling voice, he replied:
“Oh for goodness’ sake, no! Sitting all day is really bad for your back, Steve! Gracious me!” All his exclamations were pre-World War I era.
Larry acted surprised again. “Hmmm? Oh, these? Why, this is my food, Steve! I only consume grain products! Keeps me in tip-top shape!” He pounded a fist on his sternum weakly, nearly cracking it.I wanted to tell him that constantly hunching over a drafting table couldn’t be any better for his health, but he was set in his ways and probably wouldn’t have listened to me anyway. Besides, there was good reason for me to avoid approaching him with my thoughts, or approaching him at all. The second reason Larry stood out was:
Larry smelled weird. And not the typical body odor smell. He ate only grains, all specially imported from a supply house in southern California. Larry kept his grain collection in clear plastic containers that lined a four-tiered shelf in his cubicle, each labeled with alien-sounding names like “Spelt”, “Brose”, and “Groat”. His orderly system tempted the uninformed new people like myself to ask him about his rodent-style food supply. I couldn’t resist, and one day inquired of him:
“Larry, uh... what’s in all those containers?” I asked. I really should have learned after the never-sitting question.
Larry acted surprised again. “Hmmm? Oh, these? Why, this is my food, Steve! I only consume grain products! Keeps me in tip-top shape!” He pounded a fist on his sternum weakly, nearly cracking it.
I don’t know that I’d agree that Larry was a specimen of fine health. He was rail-thin and walked with the gait of an elderly man. But even if he was keeping his organs nutrient-rich with his all-grain diet, the smell endured by those of us who had to work on the same floor as Larry was far too high a price to pay. I’ve only experienced something close to that scent a few times since meeting Larry, and each time I was in a petting zoo.
After my temp position ended, Larry offered me a sample pack of his grains. Not wanting to smell like farm, I declined. I hope his feelings were not hurt too badly. But if they were, I’m okay with it.
