You know you should take the stairs. But hey, you just cycled into work and deserve a bowl of something delicious and carbohydrate-based.

The only way to get to the correct floor comfortably is via the elevator. Slight problem: you stink.

In Defence Of Hating The Gym

The sweat patches on your jersey are huge and your fellow travellers are pressing themselves up against the walls to get an inch further away from your aroma.

Even clamping your arms to your sides won’t help. You’ve just gotta suck it up, hope that the redness on your face passes for exertion rather than sheer embarrassment, and pray no one gags as they enter the lift.

It’s always the most manicured, coiffured and generally glamorous woman in the office that’s standing beside you.

Add to that the sometimes necessary extra of taking your bike up to the office via the Steel Box of Cringe (hiked up on the rear wheel, precariously balanced an inch away from your bosses’ cheek) and you’ve got a full week of avoiding eye contact ahead.