Nothing serious, just work stuff around my unreasonable expectations.
What are unreasonable expectations? I'll tell you, in the form of a story.
Since it was lunchtime, I went to the kitchen to wash my hands and heat up my food. The sink had no soap. Needing a fork, I went to the silverware drawer, only to discover there were no forks. There were spoons - lots of spoons. In fact both the spoon spot and the knife spot were full of spoons. But no forks.
We have soda machines. Yes, we do... for an outrageous sum, you can purchase the high fructose corn syrup-infused beverage of your choice, provided said beverage isn't Coke. Last week someone blew up a picture of a Coke bottle to twice its size and taped it to the soda machine, with the word `Please' written on it.
In the Old Days (which, in this case, means last year or so), one could make a request and see it fulfilled by the next day or so. We were all excited because we were going to be able to purchase Coke. Within a few days, Coke failed to appear. In fact, Coke stubbornly refused to show up in that machine for weeks.
We're a big outfit and we have two kitchen areas. Sometimes I head out to the other end of the building (county) to see what the other machine has in store for me. It's also a great place to find silverware when there isn't any in the normal lunchroom. Since this area is closer to the VIPs, it is always well-stocked. Our lunchroom is the bastard red-headed stepchild of the company.
You could have knocked me over with a feather because, standing right there where the soda machines stand, was a brand spankin' new Coke machine! I almost ran across the room, in slow motion, like lovers do across a field, to purchase my first actual Coke.
You know what's coming, right?
I found Coke! Well, when I say Coke, I mean Cherry Coke; which was fine that particular day. Had I desired Diet Coke, I could have found that in spades, as well as in the Pepsi machine in our lunchroom. Since I prefer to choose my cancers carefully, I do not drink diet anything.
Hours later I had to hit the men's room. Judging by the small pond on the floor, I might not have been the only one. It's been sitting there for two days and doesn't have any (visible) life. Doesn't look like good fishing anyway. After I washed my hands, which not all coworkers do, I discovered the paper towel machine cracked open, with no paper towels in it.
I turned to the other paper towel machine, which was completely full of paper towels, but alas, also full of dead batteries, so it wouldn't dispense the much-needed towels. No matter, my hands were almost dry by that point anyway.
Fast forward to this morning, in the men's room again. Automated soap dispenser was out of soap. But there were paper towels.
My company is full of germphobes and compulsive hand-washers. Outside of every bathroom and every ten feet thereafter on the walls, are water-free hand cleaner dispensers. As of last month, all the soap dispensers and paper towel dispensers were automatic so all you had to do was wave your hand beneath it. This is especially amusing when it allots you three inches of paper towel with which to dry your hands. This is not a money or resource-saving measure; it's just the batteries wearing down.
The only place where you can pour your own soap is the kitchen. While there was a soap sighting today, the (manual) paper towel dispenser was empty. But there were forks. And still no knives.
As one would expect, there was nothing to drink in the Pepsi machine except Diet Coke and other non-palatable items. Trudging over to the next county, I headed straight for the brand new Coke machine.
Wait for it!!
There was no Coke.
In the Coke machine.
The machine with huge the red and white illustration. Of Coke.
The machine with the wondrous inner workings which whisk your beverage on its merry way to you with great flourish.
But at least there was Diet Pepsi.