My Hand Hurts Almost as Much as My Brain Does

Good people,

I punched many boxes of individual coffee servings and now my hand hurts. This in itself is not worthy of a blog entry so let me share with you the email that instigated my stock room fit.

As you already know this is not a day to give me shit.

So imagine my delight when I received the following email from Stone Cold Killer:

"Please ensure we have regular liquid hand soap in addition to the alcohol based hand cleaner at all sinks and restrooms. I have noticed we have been running out of it regularly."

"Regularly" falls under the category of "numerous incidents" and we've already discussed that. Since people aren't aware of where I keep the hand soap I doubt others haven't been replacing it when I'm not looking, so I think I have a pretty good idea of the soap flow in the men's bathroom.

That being said, I refuse to make a pledge that I will be on top of the "soap situation" in the women's bathroom. Me walking into the women's bathroom everyday under a pretext of "checking out the soap" is a surefire way to get fired in less than a week.

Also, in addition to the hand sanitizer, the hand cream (you read right), and organic hand soap I stock, the building provides hand soap in the wall dispensers above the sinks. So in the event that one of the organic soap containers is empty suck it up and use the OTHER ONE TWO FEET AWAY or, god forbid, use what us peasants clean ourselves with: the wall-mounted soap dispensers.