Every office has that one colleague who becomes the talk of office.
The kind of person who’s whispered about in pantry corners, whose stories are told in hushed tones during power cuts, and whose actions get passed down to fresh interns like a folklore.
In our office, that legend was Sunil—a mild-mannered accounts executive with a digestive system louder than our monthly appraisal fights.
The First Tremor
Sunil didn’t mean to stand out.
He didn’t dress loud. He didn’t crack jokes. He didn’t even compete for the holy seat right under the AC vent.
He was the background music.
We were in a tense team huddle. The manager was explaining Q2 numbers with terms like “scalability” and “vertical alignment of KPIs”, which, as everyone knows, are other terms for “We’re drowning, but let’s call it swimming.”
Suddenly, Sunil sipped his chai, leaned forward, blinked twice… and released a burp so deep in bass that even the ceiling fan stopped spinning in fear.
The room froze.
One intern whispered, “Did the earth just shift?”
And that was the beginning of the legend.
Sunil calmly shrugged and said, “Oops. Must’ve been the dhokla.”
The Rise of Burp Boss
From that day, Sunil stopped holding back.
- Mid-presentation? Burp.
- While explaining a spreadsheet? Buurrrrp.
- During a Zoom client call? BURRRRRRRRRRP (with surround sound).
He didn’t see it as a problem. He saw burping as a natural punctuation to conversation.
Like a period… but moist.
We soon realized his digestive system had a schedule of its own. The team began tracking his lunch like meteorologists track cyclones.
“Paneer butter masala and a cola—Category 4 alert.”
“Chole bhature with cold coffee—evacuate the floor, it’s a Category 5.”
“Just chewing gum? We have 10 minutes before disaster.”
It was scientific. Predictable. Terrifying.
The World Notices
Clients began noticing too.
Once, during a pitch, right after our manager said, “We stand for transparency,” Sunil unleashed a thunderous sound.
The client leaned forward and asked:
“…Was that… part of the presentation?”
HR vs. Sunil
Naturally, HR tried to intervene.
Subject Line: Professional Decorum & Decibels
Dear Sunil,
We appreciate your zeal for authenticity, but we urge you to exercise discretion in shared workspaces. Kindly consider our open-plan office environment.
Regards, HR
Sunil, unbothered, replied:
Dear HR,
I believe in open-plan living—physically, mentally, and… gastrointestinally.
Regards, Sunil
That day, HR stopped believing in happy endings.
The Office Adapts
We tried fighting it.
One person brought peppermint sprays. Another invested in noise-cancelling headphones. One ambitious soul even installed a white-noise machine.
But Sunil’s post-biryani thunderclap could slice through Dolby like butter.
Eventually… we stopped fighting.
And here’s the surprising part—we embraced it.
His burps broke tension in serious meetings.
They turned boring emails into comedy shows.
They gave us something to look forward to on Mondays besides crying into our keyboards.
The Aftershocks
Soon, others let their habits loose too.
- Anita from admin began twisting at her desk like her chair had suddenly turned into a yoga mat.
- Kevin from IT began humming Bollywood villain themes every time he fixed a cable.
- Even the manager started adding “Any questions before Sunil interrupts?” to the end of every meeting.
The office grew louder. Weirder. And more human.
Digestive Lessons
Offices spend millions on team-building workshops. They take us to fancy resorts to “find synergy.” They make us play tug-of-war in the hot sun, pretending it builds “trust.” They even make us sit in circles with post-it notes on our foreheads, guessing “who we are,” as if that’ll fix the appraisal rating process.
But you know what really brought our office together?
Not HR.
Not leadership.
Not corporate yoga sessions.
It was Sunil’s digestive orchestra.
One man, one stomach, one endless supply of chai-powered thunder.
Think about it—he did what no motivational speaker could.
- He made us laugh in serious meetings.
- He taught us the importance of timing (a well-placed burp during “any questions?” is comedy gold).
- He reminded us that no matter how fancy the jargon—“vertical alignment of KPIs” or “quarterly roadmaps”—at the end of the day, we’re all just humans… some louder than others.
The truth is, every workplace is full of polished LinkedIn profiles, fake-smile PowerPoints, and coffee mugs that say “World’s Best Employee.” But under all that? We’re messy. We’re weird. We spill coffee. We send the wrong emails. And sometimes… we burp in the middle of budget reviews.
So here’s the moral:
Stop pretending. Start burping.
(Okay, maybe not literally. HR will send you an email.)
But let your quirks out.
Laugh too loudly.
Stretch like Anita.
Hum like Kevin.
And yes, if you absolutely must… burp like Sunil.
Because the real glue in any office isn’t “team synergy” or “corporate values.”
It’s the ridiculous, unfiltered, human stuff we try so hard to hide.
And in our office, that glue smelled faintly of dhokla.
Sunil became our Burp Boss—but he’s just one of many legends you’ll meet in the quirky world of Talesmith stories.
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