Goddamnit.
Sep. 22nd, 2010 11:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellzabethSo I'm sitting having my break. Eating a yogurt with reckless abandon when I realise that I fancy a cup of tea. I turn the kettle on, pour the hot water into the mug with the tea bag, press it against the side and throw the bag in the bin, add two sugars and then...
... and then...
...
Where the heck has the milk bottle gone?
Belatedly I realise someone's put it in the fridge. The fridge we have at work is a massive, room-sized thing you can walk in and out of quite easily. Alex and I have also decided it could be used as a safe house in the event of a zombie apocalypse since the door is major strong and has a tendency to seal shut, safe from the weak and feeble fingers of zombies.
And the weak and feeble fingers of Pidges.
Usually the door's left slightly ajar, not enough for the air to get warm inside but enough for the weaker members of the team (i.e. myself) to open it with ease.
The door is shut.
I put my whole weight on it and pull. I plant my foot besides the door and try that. I squeeze the handle until there's an indent in my palm.
It does not budge.
Ashamed, I wander out to the front of the shop, where Craig is serving customers.
"Um." I begin, and he and Ali give me an odd look for coming back from my break so soon. "Uh. I can't... can I borrow you for a second, Craig?"
He raises a pierced eyebrow. "Why?"
"Erm. Ican'topenthefridgedoor."
They both stare at me. A smirk twists the corner of Craig's mouth. "What was that?"
Evil bastard.
"I can't get the door to open."
"Pardon?"
My patience, already thin in the early morning, snaps. "I can't open the bloody fridge door!"
I have an audience of about three elderly ladies by this point. They're all staring unabashed at this strange till girl who is for some reason complaining of being unable to open a fridge door. Craig is quietly killing himself laughing and Ali's hiding her face behind her baker's hat, giggling for all she's worth.
Craig eventually took mercy on me and got me the milk, but I am going to remember this later, oh they'll see. They will see why you do not cross Elizabeth Hope Dove.
/shakes fist at the sky
... and then...
...
Where the heck has the milk bottle gone?
Belatedly I realise someone's put it in the fridge. The fridge we have at work is a massive, room-sized thing you can walk in and out of quite easily. Alex and I have also decided it could be used as a safe house in the event of a zombie apocalypse since the door is major strong and has a tendency to seal shut, safe from the weak and feeble fingers of zombies.
And the weak and feeble fingers of Pidges.
Usually the door's left slightly ajar, not enough for the air to get warm inside but enough for the weaker members of the team (i.e. myself) to open it with ease.
The door is shut.
I put my whole weight on it and pull. I plant my foot besides the door and try that. I squeeze the handle until there's an indent in my palm.
It does not budge.
Ashamed, I wander out to the front of the shop, where Craig is serving customers.
"Um." I begin, and he and Ali give me an odd look for coming back from my break so soon. "Uh. I can't... can I borrow you for a second, Craig?"
He raises a pierced eyebrow. "Why?"
"Erm. Ican'topenthefridgedoor."
They both stare at me. A smirk twists the corner of Craig's mouth. "What was that?"
Evil bastard.
"I can't get the door to open."
"Pardon?"
My patience, already thin in the early morning, snaps. "I can't open the bloody fridge door!"
I have an audience of about three elderly ladies by this point. They're all staring unabashed at this strange till girl who is for some reason complaining of being unable to open a fridge door. Craig is quietly killing himself laughing and Ali's hiding her face behind her baker's hat, giggling for all she's worth.
Craig eventually took mercy on me and got me the milk, but I am going to remember this later, oh they'll see. They will see why you do not cross Elizabeth Hope Dove.
/shakes fist at the sky
