su·pe·ri·or

Meanwhile this is the chair your butt must plop into while you handle a ”superior’s” paperwork:

Is his butt more superior than yours?

So what, he’s put in twenty years longer than you have. Your butt is important to you. It is a vital part of your anatomy. I mean, after all, you’re the one who does all the dirty work.  In fact, you cover their butt all the time.  Why can’t your butt be held by a buttery soft comfy chair, too?

Gosh, do you have to wait twenty more years before you’re deemed important enough to have an “Executive” chair?

Twenty years is a long time to wait for your butt to be cushioned properly. Why, at 40 hours/week that’s a gazillion hours from now. What if you get pregnant in that time period? I mean, is there a Pregnant Woman chair to accomodate your wider frame, your swollen-ness? What if you gain thirty pounds from eating four million “treats” from the vending machine in those twenty more years?

I mean really, would you sit in this chair at your home for eight hours a day, perched facing in one direction?

I’m sorry. Did I upset you? Wait. I didn’t mean to ruin your weekend. I–I just wanted to awaken your inner rebel, your dormant confrontational equal rights self. Here’s a suggestion for Monday when you return to work after a refreshing three or four-day weekend:

Get the Staples (or Ben’s Office Furniture) catalog, march into aforementioned superior’s office with the “executive” chair of your choice circled boldly with a black Sharpie and demand ask for a new improved chair, one just like similar to the one his/her butt is resting comfortably on.

After all, your butt is very important to you.

I’m here 4 you.