Want to hear a complaint? You don't even have to insert a quarter or press a button--just walk into my building and listen, and within seconds you'll hear someone, possibly me, complaining about how cold it is.
Yes, I know it's the middle of winter, and yes, I know that only wimps complain about single-digit temperatures in January, but I'm talking about the indoor temperature. The Powers That Be tell us that there's something wrong with the heater but the part has been ordered and it should be fixed, quote, soon. Meanwhile, I sit in my office with my coat on and a shawl over my legs and try to get some work done.
How does my office hate me? Let me count the ways: One, dust from sanding down floors in the big lecture hall sparked an allergy attack that still has me coughing two weeks later. Two, every time I touch my desk, it gives me a shock. Three, broken heater, too much cold exacerbating cough, unable to get all the way through a class session because I'm cold and coughing too much to talk.
That's it, office! I give up! You've defeated me! I'm going to pack up my things and go home!
Except I car-pooled this morning so I have no transportation. Which is worse, walking 20 miles in 12 degrees or making peace with my murderous office?
Maybe we should all storm the administration building. I'll bet they've got heat over there!
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