I don’t know what your Cube City kingdom looks like, but I was lucky enough to be placed front and center on our row, complete with the access to the thermostat for our area.
What’s weird about this thermostat is that it gives you ZERO idea about what temperature you’re setting it to. In stead, it has a switch on the side with a “W” on one side and a “C” on the other.
Great. Thanks. I’d love for it to be ‘C’ degrees in here. That would be perfect.
I mean, honestly, why even bother to teach us about Farenheit and Celsius in school if you’re going to grow up to be in a place that uses the alphabet to describe temperature instead of numbers? (If I was an older, more bitter adult, this is probably where I would say something like “these are our tax dollars hard at work.” But I’m still too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for that.)
To conclude, I must be loved because of the office-changing power that destiny has bestowed upon me. Some people are born for greatness…
*This week’s post has been brought to you by the Napoleon Complex*