air conditioning
Our office is cold. Normally, I don't mind so much, as I would rather be cooler than warmer. But our office is exceptionally cold. Or, at least, it was.
Manager: Our wing of the building is an ice box. We're all going to die of hypothermia.
Office Spy: You can turn the temperature up.
Manager: We can?
Office Spy: Sure. In fact, you're in charge of the thermostat for that end of the building.
Manager: I am? Nobody ever told me that.
(For the record, until four months ago, Office Spy's office was in our end of the building, and so Office Spy was responsible for the temperature in our end of the building.)
Manager and Office Spy make a trek to the thermostat.
Office Spy: Hmm. Interesting. The thermostat is on cool. Maybe we should move that over to heat.
Manager: Gee, you think?
So now the office stinks of first-of-season furnace, but it's already quite toasty warm.
3 comments:
Yes, the pencil-shavings aroma of a disused heater just firing-up is, um, distinctive.
Oh my word. You're kidding--they HADN'T turned it to heat yet? I don't care what you say, things haven't changed THAT MUCH since I left.
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I can't tell you the joy I felt when I learned that >I< could control the heat in the teachers' lounge.
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