One of them has been a thorn in my side—or nose—for weeks now.
This guy, well he smells.
Like... Hereally smells. He stomach-flippingly stinks.
Every morning, at the 0702 bus, he'd be there waiting, and the rest of us would wonder what the actual hell that unholy reek was. Slowly, one by one we would figure it out and adjust our idle positions, trying to figure out how to avoid it. But the stink is so very overpowering that often it didn't help.
I used to have a coworker who lived near me who caught the same bus. One day—my day off—she apparently rather bluntly let him know by handing him a six pack of Zest brand soap. It worked for a time, as he was no longer a menace to the olfactory sense for several months.
But in recent months, the man's stench has been worse than ever. People waiting for the bus now keep a wide berth around him, clearing out when the wind adjusts, and sometimes waiting a block up or down to escape. There is a race to and out of seats on the bus so that one doesn't have to walk through the stink cloud. Hell, drivers have had to open windows to mitigate the problem. Myself, I blow one big cloud to test the wind and stand out of his fallout zone.
Sometimes, though, you can't dodge it. And that's when you SCRUB ALL YOUR SKIN OFF IN THE BATH.
If he flips my stomach over again, I'm taking a page from my old coworker's handbook and getting him a family pack of Irish Spring soap. Because, dude, you are a grown-ass man. You should not be walking around (AT YOUR WORK! He's got a job!) smelling like an actual donkey's ass.