Today at work, I felt a cool breeze carressing my cheek. This is bad. It means that despite my granny sweater and the space heater and the plastic on the windows, some errant winter has crept in and is . . . blowing on my face from a vent?
But wait! No cool creeze should be coming from the vent. We keep the heat in there this time of year.
I got up and checked the thermostat. Some utter dillhole had turned on the air conditioning. I turned it off and sent the following email to my office:
"All,
It is March in Chicago. Do NOT turn on the air conditioning. If you are hot, take off a sweater, bring in a fan, crack a window, ask to have the heat lowered, or step outside for a moment. But do not, not, not turn on the air conditioning!
Cordially,
Megan"
Pissy? Yep.
I shortly received a response:
"Megan – I turned on the AC yesterday as I was burning up and needed to cool it down. We need to think about the plastic on the windows when it warms up and we can’t open the windows."
Signed? My boss.
Oh, fucksticks.
