Nothing ignites that special passive-aggressive brand of office-rage faster than the little “Bing” of the air-conditioning being switched on.

Much like Newton’s third law, regardless of where you work there seem to be two distinct and opposing groups.  I’m pretty certain that one group simply cannot exist without the other.

It usually starts around 9:30 once everyone has settled into the throes of their daily task. Pro a/c’s usually fire the first shot. “Bing” and temperatures start to drop.

Like Meerkats, anti-a/c heads start popping up from their cubicles, laser-beam eyes making sure that someone hears their loud sighs as jackets and beanies get pulled on.

Temperatures continue to drop.

A brave soul sidles up to the control unit and suddenly we’re sitting somewhere in the jungle somewhere near the equator.  Blankets are neatly folded away as the first words in this exchange are uttered.  “It’s so STUFFY in here!”

Like a the Wimbledon Final, this back and forth gets faster until the wild temperature fluctuations make you wonder if you do, in fact, have early onset menopause.

And just as quickly as it started, it ends – home time has arrived.  And we get to do it all again tomorrow.


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