Since the dawn of backspace-able typing, which allowed normal people to type all day without pausing to change paper or catch the bubonic plague, a creeping pain has stricken the most tenacious, doughy workers: CTS. Carpal. Tunnel. Syndrome.
You’d hear about it at work, usually from the doughy guy in the next cubicle who wore a backbrace just to sit in the car right and lived in constant flux between asthma and allergy attacks. Or from the single-mom across the hall that threatened the company with a lawsuit if they didn’t swap out her furniture with ergonomically-designed Swedish health balls.
If you thought it was gone, think again. It’s back, and just like Jason, it’s feeding on our teenagers.