Some people really love to make a fuss! You tell one tiny little white lie, and next thing you know they’re demanding your head on a stake. I’ll admit that it’s marginally unethical to tell the whole office you’ve got a medical condition that you don’t technically have, but sometimes the ends justify the means, and in this case I had no choice but to play dirty.
I don’t like having to wear a jacket at work, okay? I spend all this time planning out outfits, and I find that jackets tend to ruin the line. Evan and Dan and Britney wouldn’t understand that, because they’re all such dowdy drones. In short, it’s imperative that I get have my say over the heating over winter, and they wouldn’t have understood if I’d made my point in a less manipulative way.
If only Evan hadn’t overheard me explaining my ruse, and Hans – ever the Mr. Reasonable – hadn’t taken the matter to HR. Then I’d still be sitting pretty, ensconced in my ideal climate. As it stands, I’m currently swathed in a shapeless cardigan that completely conceals my new neckpiece, while Hans is happily researching ducted heating system repairs. Melbourne area locals, he says, don’t really know what cold is, but it’s still good to keep your system in good nick. Bloody Europeans… to top it off, they somehow manage to make cold-weather clothes look chic.
Whatever. I may have been temporarily defeated, but the battle hasn’t been won yet. If Evan can use Hans as a pawn to take me down via HR, then I can fire that right back. I’m sure there’s some dirt to be dug up, and while it might not get me the remote back, it might at least wrestle it away from Team Icebox. Maybe I can argue that, at the office in Clayton, services for heating and cooling are not allowed to be controlled by… people called Evan? Maybe that’s a bit far fetched.
At the end of the day, it’s not about Evan being banned from the remote. It’s just about me being in charge of it.