When I wandered over to the coffee pot this morning, walking past Saul's office, I noticed that he was sulking; looking especially dour. However, what initially caught my eye was not his depressed countenance, but the shirt he was wearing. Saul works for a telecomm company - let's call it Locust. With each project, Saul collects the freebies that the market teams give away, including logo jackets and, in this case, t-shirts. Today, Saul was sporting a blazing red, Locust embossed, silk-screened t-shirt that was smaller than the onesies my infant son wears. Not only did the t-shirt greatly amplify Saul's rotundity, but you could see his nipples.
Once I overcame my shock, Saul coaxed me into this office, informing me of his recent visit to a back specialist, where he verbally expressed his dismay to the attending anesthesiologist. Apparently, the anesthesiologist poked her needle a bit too far into Saul's spine, giving rise to Saul's opinion of the matter -- "You Mother F-er!" Needless to say, when an ugly, obese man with sleepy eyes accosts you in such a manner, you don't stick around for any remaining punishment. And, this doctor did not either. She left the room, leaving Saul with a three inch needle protruding from his back. A medical intern completed the procedure.
Now, Saul claims that he is having psychological problems related to the anesthesiologist and wants to sue the hospital. Mind you, he does not have any "observable" injury other than his pre-existing siatica and a Band-Aid on his lower torso. After contacting an attorney friend of mine, who laughed at the suggestion of my referring Saul to his law firm -- (not a very polite method of turning down a case, I might add) -- I have decided to keep my door closed at work and forgo coffee for Lent.
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