Look, okay, check this. The large-ish lever here, if you push down on it, then it controls the angle of recline. BUT if you twist that very same lever, it'll raise or lower the "lumbar support." I don't know what the hell a "Lumbar" is, but if I so much as bump that lever, some sorta anvil or something rams into my back.

Someone's gonna get hurt!

This lever here, it folds out, and you can turn it like a crank. It took me almost an hour to figure that out. What does it do? Go ahead, turn it. Turn the lever all you want. See? Nothing! It apparently does nothing. There is no visible change to the chair, its angles, its springiness, or its contours. And yet, yesterday, I was turning that crank for about an hour, when I suddenly got an ICQ from Debbie down in accounting that said "Stop that."

So this large paddle-shaped lever right here, it's at the right height to press down on it with your foot. But can you press down on it? No, you can't! It doesn't move down. However, if you were to accidentally roll over top of one of the stray golfballs we have rolling around the office, you'd discover that it's possible to push the lever up, which causes the chair to emit a loud noise not unlike a hydraulic pump, and moments later the back of the chair will suddenly drop completely parallel with the ground.

That happened to me last Wednesday, and I went immediately and hopelessly prone. In desperation I tried to press down on the lever to adjust the angle of recline, but because of my new angle, I twisted it and got the anvil-to-the-back treatment. In a frantic effort to assuage the pain I grabbed the large orange ripcord with the warning label on it, pulling it with all my might. That's when the fire alarm started ringing. Then all five wheels popped off just before the back of the chair shot forward with enough momentum to fling me headfirst into the receptionist cabinet.

Fine, fine, don't believe me. But Tim across the hall? He had a chair just like this one. And he's been missing for over a week...