When ya piss off the Carrier Man ...

So after sitting in my office-cum-sauna for I don't know how many weeks and constantly calling the Carrier man back again and again to fix the air conditioning problem (which he initially refused to admit was a problem), I think I finally called him back one too many times.

You would think when the guy refuses to admit there's a problem with the aircon that maybe he might not know how to fix it, so he tells you there isn't a problem so he doesn't have to fix it, right?

What you may not realise is, hell no, maybe he does know how to fix it, but he doesn't want to fix it because he can't be bloody bothered. And then the 6th or 7th time he comes back, he decides, okay. Now she's really done it. She's pissed me off. By God this time I will fix the aircon. And I will fix it reel gud. How diabolical is that?!

So I return from a meeting and I walk into ... Siberia. What he's done in the one hour I was away from the office is lower the thermostat to .... the lowest it could possibly go to sustain human life, and then screw all the vents fully open so that even if I change my mind and try to go with a little bit of self-help remedy, me and my little office screwdriver (ok, it's a pen, alright) will never be able to close them again. Ever. Even if I use the office blowtorch (ok, it's a lighter, alright) or the office hammer (high heel) and nails (another pen) or my ultimate secret weapon (screaming while doing all of the above), I will never EVER be able to close the vents myself. I will have to pick up the phone and beg the Carrier man to come back to fix it.