Generally we have a pleasant little relationship here in the Coffee House. The Boss makes the muffins, preps up the salad, stirs the soup and generally flits around the kitchen doing magical things that are a mystery to me. Whilst listening to the happy sounds of a woman working in the background, I scan the Internet looking for world situations that may be in need of my advice. Currently I am trying to resolve the issue of the former British colony of Rhodesia, now known as Zimbabwe. Inflation in Zimbabwe is now running at 3000% and unemployment is 80%. It really is quite a vexing situation and alas it is not the only former British colony that gives me cause for concern.
So you can imagine how annoyed I was to have my concentration broken by the Boss telling me that most of the sockets in the kitchen were dead. Breaking away from Robert Mugabe and his crooked henchmen I set off to reset the breaker (which by the way is situated in the restroom, how dumb is that?). Now when it comes to this electrical stuff I can recognize a tripped breaker and I can also recognize an untripped breaker and we had the latter type so it was a call to our landlord, Kissbotty County. To their credit they sent a man out within minutes although after he had retrod my footsteps he spent an inordinately long time scratching his gonads and muttering softly. After and hour or so he called for reinforcements and we soon had two sparkies scratching and mumbling. I watched with mild disinterest as we approached closing time, hit closing, got well past closing and then something that I had not taken into account happened.
I have the most well trained colon that you can imagine; in fact it is no exaggeration to say that you can set your clock by my colon. However I don’t use public toilets. Call me a weirdo if you will but I never have and I never will. So remember that;
a) we are well past closing time
b) the contact breaker panel is in the restroom
c) the restroom is overflowing with sparkies
Out of the blue I get a colon message “OK CB ready when you are”. Ooops thinks I. Ten minutes later “Hey CB, lets go here”. Another 10 minutes “CB YOU BASTARD GIVE IT UP”. Finally the sparkies call it a day and promise to return in the morning. 5 milliseconds later I am in the company van driving home at 90 miles per hour using my left foot on the accelerator and my right on the brake with my colon now screaming “ready or not, here we go”. Of course I made it home safely and I consoled myself by filling in an overtime form. Needless to say it was rejected, as I hadn’t obtained prior management approval. I tell you sometimes this Coffee House is like working for the Third Reich. In fact if there is anything to this Buddhist nonsense I bet Mr A Hilter has been reincarnated as the Boss. I might just sneak up behind her and shout Zieg Heil and see if her right arm twitches.
TCB
PS In fairness to the boys, they returned really early and found a deeply hidden (by me, my bad) ground fault trip. Hats off to the Kissbotty electricians.
So you can imagine how annoyed I was to have my concentration broken by the Boss telling me that most of the sockets in the kitchen were dead. Breaking away from Robert Mugabe and his crooked henchmen I set off to reset the breaker (which by the way is situated in the restroom, how dumb is that?). Now when it comes to this electrical stuff I can recognize a tripped breaker and I can also recognize an untripped breaker and we had the latter type so it was a call to our landlord, Kissbotty County. To their credit they sent a man out within minutes although after he had retrod my footsteps he spent an inordinately long time scratching his gonads and muttering softly. After and hour or so he called for reinforcements and we soon had two sparkies scratching and mumbling. I watched with mild disinterest as we approached closing time, hit closing, got well past closing and then something that I had not taken into account happened.
I have the most well trained colon that you can imagine; in fact it is no exaggeration to say that you can set your clock by my colon. However I don’t use public toilets. Call me a weirdo if you will but I never have and I never will. So remember that;
a) we are well past closing time
b) the contact breaker panel is in the restroom
c) the restroom is overflowing with sparkies
Out of the blue I get a colon message “OK CB ready when you are”. Ooops thinks I. Ten minutes later “Hey CB, lets go here”. Another 10 minutes “CB YOU BASTARD GIVE IT UP”. Finally the sparkies call it a day and promise to return in the morning. 5 milliseconds later I am in the company van driving home at 90 miles per hour using my left foot on the accelerator and my right on the brake with my colon now screaming “ready or not, here we go”. Of course I made it home safely and I consoled myself by filling in an overtime form. Needless to say it was rejected, as I hadn’t obtained prior management approval. I tell you sometimes this Coffee House is like working for the Third Reich. In fact if there is anything to this Buddhist nonsense I bet Mr A Hilter has been reincarnated as the Boss. I might just sneak up behind her and shout Zieg Heil and see if her right arm twitches.
TCB
PS In fairness to the boys, they returned really early and found a deeply hidden (by me, my bad) ground fault trip. Hats off to the Kissbotty electricians.
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