If there’s one thing to seriously enrage me in the office over and above the high noise levels it is the sounds and smells of people eating at their desks.
My hearing is acute, I can hear whispered conversations from the other end of the office. Of course most don’t bother to whisper, especially when they are conversing in another language – the assumption seems to be that if other people can’t understand them, then they can’t hear them. Even as the volume ramps up to a shout to someone 4 feet away.
Accepted or not by the medical profession, misophonia is a very real thing to me. At best it means I have a low threshold to migraines brought on by all the noise, often exacerbated by other sensory stimuli. Various coping strategies generally work until food is brought in to the equation.
The noises of people eating are the biggest drivers for the misophonia producing intense physical reactions. The noises of sloppy mastication drive me wild. Of particular hatred is the crunching of apples eaten at the desk, it’s fingernails down the blackboard of the soul. It’s closely followed by the chap who gets boxes of seeds delivered. And don’t get me started about how the boss assaults a mango.
All these can bring rapid onset of migraines to the extent of being physically sick. But that’s nothing compared to the smells. The company provides a kitchen, it includes crockery, cutlery, tables and chairs. And every one of the fuckers brings their smelly food to their desks. The combination of the noise and smell brings the nausea on fast.
The moment all this starts I have one vision continually running through my head. The scene from The Untouchables where Al Capone wields a baseball bat on someone attending the dinner.