Earlier, I looked up and saw the guy who sits diagonally opposite me (The Picker) picking his nose again. Not just picking his nose, but then eating it afterwards. I felt compelled to watch in horror as he did it several times over. He’s a grown man! Who has let him get away with this behaviour? More importantly, if he does that openly in an open-plan office, what the hell does he get up to in the privacy of his own house? That was a rhetorical question. I don’t want to know the answer.
I needed to share my disgust, so emailed Miss T: The Picker was just picking his nose and eating it again! He did it like 5 times in a row! Ewwwwww!
She saw the email and looked up at me with a disdainful expression. “I can understand the irritation or discomfort of needing to pick, but eating it? That’s just nasty.”
We shook our heads and then got on with our work. A minute or so later, Miss T says, “It’s a little bit worrying that you counted how many times,” she said, laughing.
“It was an approximation,” I said, smiling, “It was like a car crash. I didn’t want to watch but couldn’t look away!” She laughed at me. Even as I type this now, he’s still mining for gold up there. Rank.
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