Let Me Tell You About My Standing Desk -The Toast

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Hello there. I saw you, across the party, looking at me. You’re in HR, yes? Robert. From accounting. I normally I don’t like these happy hours at the office, nobody wants to talk about anything but work! It drives me up the wall. But I’ve gone through some changes lately and I’m keeping an open mind. You’re probably wondering how I got this body working in accounting, right? It’s a very common question, no need to be embarrassed.

Let me tell you about my standing desk.

I can tell by looking at your little warped potato body — now don’t get offended, that’s just how it looks from up here — that you sit all day while working at your desk. Don’t tell me — probably in a chair? I figured. I used to be like you! Sitting at home, sitting on the train to work, sitting at work, sitting sitting sitting. A quick aside — did you know that sitting in a chair all day will literally cause your body to reject your spine? I know.

It’s almost impossible to imagine, right? You look at me and see a ten foot tall god-man composed of living platinum with a voice like the sound of thunder, emitting cosmic radiation that your eyes must register as a brilliant fuchsia, but I assure you! I was not born like this. It’s all thanks to my Standing Desk. Like I said, I would stick my keester just about anywhere, until one day, I saw a news post — I believe it was online — about how sitting is bad and standing is good. I was astounded! Why would sitting feel so good if it were bad for you? But the science bears this out, there’ve been studies and everything. I haven’t read them, but I trust whomever wrote the post must have read the studies or else they certainly wouldn’t have the post-writing job.

With the Standing Desk, I immediately felt better. I had boundless energy and focus! But that’s not where the benefits end; my horrible posture was replaced with one so upright that I had to buy longer clothing. For many painful years, my knees would pop and click each and every time I bent my legs. But Post-Standing-Desk, the clicks were replaced with the dulcet tones of Claude Debussy’s Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune. Each winter I would look sickly and pale, cold to the touch, due to poor blood circulation doubtless caused by years of you-know-what. But after acquiring my Standing Desk? I awoke to find my old skin sloughed off. Burned away by the heat of perfectly circulating blood. I was Ancient Osiris resurrected on the banks of the Nile, Mother of All Men! I wore clothes only for the comfort of my coworkers.

Before long, I was eschewing La Danse Derrière in all facets of my existence. The Desk had changed me, yes. But it was not the terminus of my journey. My Standing Desk was merely the luminous marble entryway to a road that would take me to a state of consciousness freed from the shackles that have plagued mankind for millennia. I placed a treadmill in front of my beloved desk, and would sprint at full speed during the workday. I slept while jogging in place. Instead of riding the subway with a bunch of sitters, I would swim across the East River each morning. Sure, you don’t get the same amount of reading done and I had to replace my phone a couple of times, but the health benefits speak for themselves!

Next was my mind. Before The Desk, I scuttled from place to place, relying on my animal instincts. Fear above all. But one day at lunch, I lifted the shroud that had been draped over my conscious mind by eons of terror and hatred. I crossed the formless void and parted the shimmering veil that conceals the truth of the cosmos. I uncovered a wellspring of primeval knowledge and drank deep the crepuscular waters. O, to take my fellow humans by the hand and guide them gently to this hidden fount! But a mind cannot be forced open to the universe; the way can only be shown.

Before my Standing Desk, I would have wished that I had discovered it sooner. But I now see time stretching forth from me in every direction like an open meadow, no longer trapped in the mighty currents of its river. Traversing what you must perceive as an uncrossable chasm would be as easy as me, say, walking to get another plate of Judy’s really tremendous artichoke dip on the conference room table over there. Speaking of, I think I’ll go grab some now.

It was also important that I had a gel pad to stand on, otherwise it’s hell on your feet. Highly recommended.

Matt Lubchansky makes comics and occasionally leaves his apartment in New York. You can find his weekly comics here, or on twitter here.

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