Nov 18, 2019: Pounded

Nothing fills me with more fear than arriving at work and seeing that the tools, which normally live nicely on a shelf, are out on the counter.

It worries me mostly because no-one other than me uses them to fix things, and if they do they ask me first because generally no-one knows where they are. They’re literally on a shelf, though. They’re easy to find.

So mendings frighten me. Because does it need another looksee, has it just been bodged to get through a game, and a proper fix is needed. Stuff happens. The general public are animals when “locked” in a room, in some cases stopping at nothing to escape.

Yesterday we had a lively birthday party, so it wasn’t beyond the realms that something would have broken, been pulled of a wall of otherwise buggered.

But no. It was not that.

It was a colleague who had trouble opening screw topped tins and so, to remedy that, took a hammer (albeit rubber) to them. Because that’s how you open a tin. Hammer the shit out of it.

Our once beautifully round tins are now more cubic with ill-fitting lids and a very real chance of never getting into them again if anyone pushes them down.

Even less chance because I’m going to have to hide the hammer now.

People can’t be trusted…