Kelly (over the phone): "So, the little fridge stopped working for some reason. I came in this morning and there was water all over the floor and I had to throw the milk out."
Me: "Suck." Secretly hoping it wasn't my fault.
Later, at the coffee shop.
Kelly: "We need to make sure we put all the milk in the back fridge at night. Thankfully we use it up pretty fast, so we can store some in the little fridge while we work."
Me (leaning into fridge): "Uh-huh." Still hoping it wasn't my fault as I examine suspicious puncture wound. Crap. "So, there is a chance this is my fault."
Kelly: "What do you mean?"
Me: "I was chipping off ice with a screwdriver in preparation for defrosting, and I may have accidentally punctured a hole in the fridge. I'm not saying 100% but that could have broken the fridge."
Kelly: "You're fired."
Me: "Well, now we can get a new one. This is how I get new things."
I told a customer this story later and they thought it was a pretty clever strategy. I even mimicked telling Chase to straighten out because I could always stab him with a screwdriver and get a new husband. They laughed, but I was completely serious. Although that could have been the freon talking. Meanwhile, we got a beautiful new fridge from Costco.
Here is a comic Kelly drew to commemorate the death of the old fridge:
Oh, those toilet bowls? Apparently I infected the ENTIRE peninsula with the norovirus (allegedly) resulting in several people (including myself) spending lots of quality time in the bathroom.