You know when you get a whiff of a scent and it immediately takes you back to some old memories? That happened to me last night. I was driving home and I had the honour of smelling the most disgusting, dirtiest, pungent odour that you could ever come across. If it wasn't for my fantastic driving skills, I'm sure that I could have hit a tree by the shock of the smell. As I continued to drive, once again gaining my breath and the tears forming in my eyes had dispersed, I was met with the horrifying fact that I once knew that smell so very well. It occurred to me that this odour, disgusting-I-want-to-die-odour, was a part of my life for two years.
Yes, that is right, I put up with that smell and many others for the first two years of my life out of highschool.
Why is that? No, I was not some dirty person with no hygeine. Yes, I take showers. Yes, I'm clean. But...
I worked in an odour panel.
Ooohhhhhhhh the memories. The excitment I felt when I first read that newspaper clipping...
Do you have a nose?
If you answered yes, we may have the job for you! Call *********
I, Samantha Louise, would happily walk into that factory.. sign that contract where I never read the fine print, and allowed myself to sniff different things from places such as Australian sewage, the arbituar (I don't know how to spell, but where they slaughter animals), various chimney smokes, and much much more. It was a glorious job, relaxing even. With the blessing of meeting many wonderful people... The lovable Lyn- who would choose to mother me to no end, Mark- the motorcyclist who would then call me for the next four years trying to woo my heart, Tony- whose dream was to leave the odour panel and film a murder mystery, and ofcourse the many other characters who would come in and last only a week or two. Apparently their noses weren't up to scratch.
So what would we do? We'd sit in a booth with two bong-like tubes sticking out of the table. And as the instructor commanded us we would lean our head into each bong and whiff up those smells, cough and splutter at times, and select on an electronic device which tube had the bad air. It was all good, governmentally approved, legal. Gave me the cash to survive at uni. As long as I ignored the upset stomachs, I loved it.
But, it was odd whenever people asked me what I did for a living... "Ohhh yes, I uhh, I'm a professional sniffer!"