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New Year's Resolution - Part 2
🕑 Added 2018-01-26 03:58:15 +0000 UTC At first, Nick was excited to work for Morticon. Hired straight out of college into such a prestigious tech firm was basically his dream gig. He shook hands with the CEO, who recognized him as a programming prodigy. They expected great things from him, he was told. He was going places, they said.And then they stuck him in the basement with the fattest slob Nick had ever seen.
It wasn’t even that the guy was fat - Nick was far from an Adonis, and no matter how hard he tried a career where you sit 90% of the time made it impossible for him to lose his pudge - it was the fact that he was gross.
His workspace was a mess of candy wrappers and empty pop cans. His garbage was overflowing with the remnants of whatever he had for lunch, which was often enough to feed two or even three people. He sweat even in the gloriously air-conditioned office to the point where there were clear dark circles beneath each armpit and an even larger one at the small of his back. Nick didn’t even want to think about what was going on in the guy's underpants.
But the worst part was the smell. The guy just reeked of BO. It got worse by the end of the day, naturally, but even first thing in the morning it was not just noticeable, but potent. By quitting time it was nearly intolerable.
Nick had complained to his superiors after the first week, but each time he brought it up he was told that the guy was legendary in the company - certainly for his size, but also for profit-making. He’d made the company millions, Nick’s boss told him, so he’d just have to swallow his pride and invest in air fresheners. Which he did, but it was never enough.
For the longest time he didn’t even ask the guy who he was - he wanted to stay as far away as possible. After the first week, Nick eventually got up the nerve to ask the guy his name: Gram. Then he asked if he could empty his garbage, or ask sanitation to do it for him.
“If it bothers you so much, why don’t you ask them to clean it up,” was Gram’s response, telling Nick exactly how much he cared about having a tidy workspace.
Nick had to bribe the janitorial staff to get them to come by more than their mandated once-per-night schedule. It helped the smell slightly, but not by much.
At that point, Nick knew he’d have to go to war to ensure Gram didn’t ruin his dream job. He’d get Gram to clean up, somehow. He just had to figure out how.
Nothing worked. Nick tried everything - he shared studies about how obesity was terrible for your health, he tried tempting him with free gym passes or coupons to health food stores, he tried pestering and prodding him about cleaning up his work desk, to the point where he’d physically get up and start cleaning himself. He tried wearing a gas mask as a not-so-subtle reminder that Gram was putting off a smell that could choke out farm animals. He even resorted to childish name calling, dubbing gram the dubious title of fatty, piggy, tubby, or at one point, Blobby McBlobbington. No matter what name Nick called him he just looked back with a sly smile tugging the corner of his chubby cheeks. The man was invincible.
It had been months of non-stop assault that would have gotten him fired if HR had any idea. Gram could send a single email and it would be the end of him. Now the whole thing had backfired - rather than foisting an ever-increasing amount of anxiety on Gram to change his ways, Nick fretted that every day at his supposed dream job would be his last.
Even more ironic was the cold sweat that had his work shirt stained just as much as Gram’s. Maybe even more.
“Hey - you OK little guy?”
Nick nearly bolted out of his chair. From over top the divider of the pair’s cubicle was the enormous, bearded face of his tormentor, the same sly smile quirking the side of his face into a diagonal cavern.
“Fi-Fine!” Nick blurted.
“Really,” Gram said, and then his face turned into one of genuine concern. “It seems to me like you’ve been having a rough few days. Anything going on?”
It was insane. The man he’d been tormenting for almost a month, the man who held Nick’s very life in his hands, was concerned for him?
Something inside Nick snapped. This time he did get up out of his chair to face Gram and unleashed his long pent-up fury.
“Yes! YOU are what’s going on! YOU, and your constant eating, your constant sweating, your constant littering! You’re a slob, and you’re ruining everything!”
Gram seemed genuinely shocked at the sudden spine he seemed to show as Nick stalked around the end of the cubicle to confront Gram without a wall between them.
“LOOK AT YOU! You’re a giant fucking whale stinking up the place, and I can’t stand it! This was supposed to be my dream job, my golden ticket, the place I make a name for myself, and instead I haven’t done a goddamn thing since I got here since all I’ve been doing is trying to get you to leave!”
Nick walked forward, inches from Gram’s massive belly, and stabbed his finger into Gram’s chest, where it sank in almost to the knuckle. “And nothing worked! You don’t care! You genuinely don’t care about any of it! It’s like you’re just here to mock me, to torment me, to drive me up the fucking wall and down again! I can’t stand it! I fucking can’t!!!”
And with that final, cathartic scream, it seemed the wind went out from beneath Nick’s sails. As shocked as Gram was to see Nick so furious, he was even more shocked as Nick broke down in tears right in front of him, collapsing onto his cushiony front. Gram stood there, stunned, before wrapping a ham-like arm around the sobbing man.
“How,” Nick tried to speak between sobs, but struggled. “How- how do you do it?”
“Do what?” Gram asked, confused.
“How do… you not care? How does n-none of it bother you? How do you even live with yourself?”
Gram looked down at the poor young man sobbing into his already sweat-stained work shirt, and an almost beatific look came over him. He knew what it was like to feel driven toward something he didn’t truly want. Nick seemed even worse than he had been, living entirely for other people rather than his own wants, his own needs. He could see it now, clear as day, but wondered if Nick could too, with the right amount of help.
“I made a promise to myself not too long ago, when I was in University, to never live for anyone but myself. To do only what I felt was important to me, and to never let anyone else’s opinions hold me back,” Gram said solemnly. Then he smiled. “Besides, I kinda like being big.”
Nick looked up at the giant, moon face smiling down at him, saw the unabashed honesty there, and giggled. “Y-you just said ‘fuck it’?”
“In a sense,” Gram admitted. “There’s more to it than that. It was more like dedicating myself to my own happiness and ensuring nothing else got in the way of that.”
Nick wiped his nose with his sleeve. “Is that why you don’t shower?”
“Fuck man, I still shower. Just… not every morning. And I don’t care if there’s a bit of garbage at my desk since someone else will clean it up. And if they don’t, who cares? It’s not like it’ll stop me from working.”
“But doesn’t it bother you?”
“Why should it?” Gram asked pointedly. “Why should any of it?”
The way he said the words seemed to resonate with Nick. He got a faraway look in his eyes as he considered Gram’s words. Why did it matter? Why did any of it matter?
Either being this close to the enormous man was too much for his nostrils to bare, or Nick was starting to not care either, but he no longer noticed Gram’s smell as he held Nick against his enormous body. Nick had never expected his greatest enemy to become his greatest comfort.
He never bothered Gram about his appearance, or his hygiene, or anything else again. And as the week passed and the pair began to talk as true friends, Nick began to see the world from larger man’s perspective. And he began to see a real appeal there.
