Friends,
My workplace, the far eastern outpost of San Diego’s omnipresent charitable organization, was very blinky when I arrived this morning. Not only were the fire alarm strobe lights flashing in their moribund death-to-disco cadence, but a local news crew was set up in the parking lot with their remote news van, microwave antenna fully extended (burritos not included).
The clients who were doing chores this morning looked like they’d been up all night, and they had. “We’ve been up since 3:00 or something. There was a real fire this time. You should go look at the laundry room.” I joked, “as long as you don’t say ‘you should go look at the server room,’ everything will be okay.” I got some tired chuckles, then headed off to see the damage. One of the industrial dryers was well done and its glass door shattered. The next one over was singed and it was clear that the fire suppression sprinklers had worked perfectly. I don’t know the cause, but somebody mentioned that some “dumbass” had left the thing running for hours and hours, which I find hard to believe.
Dumbasses? Here?
In the meanwhile, the place smells like Barbie’s Glamour Waste Water Reclamation Plant and Deep Pit Barbecue.
Good luck getting that image out of your head.
And also, you’re welcome.
And, happy Monday!
– bob