I was in the CNM cafeteria today for a nice 2 o'clock lunch. Didn't really feel like dealing with crazy sandwich lady today so I settled for a prepackaged lunch of odwalla Tangerine!, fruit, and mac-and-cheese.
Very telling of the rest of CNM, there is only one very old microwave in the cafeteria. I opened it's door to find someone else's tv dinner. Looked around for several seconds. Done!, it kept flashing. So, I took it out. With a napkin, I carefully layed it on top of the microwave and put mine in for 1.5 min. Noone was coming to claim this sad excuse for a meal. Pressed start. Found a table. Set my things down. Turn around to supervise my meal, unlike some, and there she was. The owner. Walk to the microwave.
"It wasn't done," she said in a bitchy defensive way as I stared at my own meal that had been removed from the microwave while still cooking. Visions of pushing her down, snatching her stupid fucking weight-watchers-piece-of-shit meal out of the microwave and throwing it down were dancing through my head as I reminded myself that I was faculty.
A girl that had come up after me offered for me to go in front of her. I decided that I'd go back to my office and use my own. You know, stop pretending to be a student.
So when I get back, these three huge ass guys come in to inspect this drum of potentially hazardous material that has been in this office since I was a student here. Noone knows what's in it. Noone knows where it came from...and an analysis costs $1000. I'm not sticking my nose in it, but I want it out. Whoever thought it was a good idea to use this office as a storage unit for waste material should be fired...and perhaps was since noone seems to know where it came from.
Boo. I miss the girls.
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