He combed what little was left of his hair very attentively, as if nothing were more important. The small pocket comb raked out bits of dry scalp onto his shoulders, but he never noticed. It repulsed me. I don’t like to be invited into anyone’s hygiene routine, particularly not this scabrous bastard’s.
I assume that he thought being coworkers meant we had a level of intimacy that made this and other displays perfectly normal. Well, it wasn’t okay and it wasn’t normal. I would have talked to HR about him, but they are worthless. They only want to keep things like this from coming up-protect the company executives from having to run someone off.
I decided I would have to exact some kind of revenge on him, maybe online, as he was always going on about Facebook and Twitter whenever we had to work together. I wasn’t sure what I would do, but the time had definitely come: He was flicking wet boogers in the break room.
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