Like, right. For one, this office lacks any of the required beautiful young types to fulfil the fantasy, and if it did, our 'water cooler', as it is so endearingly called in glossy-mag ponce speak, is located next to the fridge, which, if you had read my previous posts, is a biohazard of such potency that we have taken to donning chemical suits and gas masks just to open it.
Even the other water cooler, located outside the toilets, fails to attract the audiences for these facinating debates about US TV series and other mediocre throwaway gossip topics. Not once have I seen more than one person standing at it - and that is the person filling a cup, or emptying the drip tray.
In fact, the staff in this office go to such lengths to avoid bumping into people at the water cooler that they actually loiter at a safe distance, empty bottles in hand, as if they are waiting to give urine samples at an STD clinic. Any conversation is purely accidental.
But when the bottle is empty the fun really begins. Then, grown adults revert to their most basic of instincts as they hunt those responsible for taking the last cup, and force them to change the bottle.
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