I’ve been at my new home for a week now. And can you believe that someone stuck a ghastly note on my head? It said: – ‘Hello, I am your new water cooler. I am not connected to the mains and have a very small drip tray so you’ll have to regularly empty me.’
I mean how dare they, how dare they speak for me. Maybe I like having a small drip tray, maybe I like it overflowing. Did anyone ask me?
Do you know there is an advantage to being stuck in the corner? No one notices you but yet strangely they all need you. Without me they wouldn’t survive, wouldn’t get through the day. Sure, they could get water from elsewhere but that’s not what it is about is it?
It’s a break from work, an escape, a bit of gossip.
And oh my, do I hear the gossip. Never mind the golf course, or even meeting room 3, it’s the kitchen where it all happens. That’s where the real deals take place. I could tell you what I hear but that would be breaking water cooler client privilege, and I wouldn’t do that. Why not? Well for a start, someone might remove my drip tray altogether, or worse still, empty it more regularly. Perish the thought.
You see, they all need me, but they don’t want to care. They are all too busy to empty the drip tray, but not too busy to take my water. I’ve always found that interesting.
Anyway, as I may have hinted, I like to over fill anyway. I don’t like the obsessive cleaning types that empty me or check on me every day. That’s just spooky isn’t it? Give me a bit of space. So what if a little water falls on the floor. Oh c’mon, no one will slip; it’s a tiny bit of water.
As I mentioned though, not really being noticed is a good thing. What I hear, oh my, it just staggers me. I hear all what is important to people. I see the trend and patterns too. The people that get up and just happen to come into the kitchen at the same time someone else does. Those that like to be in there when no one else is, those that flirt, and those that network.
Humans are quite incredible really. Complex and flawed if I may say? They still remain incredible nonetheless. I like gossip, I have to admit, and the things people talk about, here, in the kitchen, in the most public of places, are bewildering.
‘Say hi to Francis’
‘Can I just get to the tea?’
‘What about your daughter?’
‘Did she get the chance to sing?’
‘I took her’
‘To the audition’
Wait for the microwave ping
‘It frightens me’
‘Did you hear what happened to Dave?’
‘And that business case’
‘Thousands to waste’
‘Don’t forget to click save’
Mark Scotchford © 04/03/2016