Not ''fan''...tastic...

An entire packet of breakfast cereal - from new.  Some dry, and the rest with the best part of a pint of milk.
A double pack of jam doughnuts.
A very large coffee from the concession in the foyer.
A double pack of Bounty bars
A pack of Matzo crackers - not an individual pack, an entire box.
A triple pack of sandwiches - deep-fill variety.  The pack illustration showed some sort of greenery, so perhaps that counted as one of her five-a-day.
Two bags of crisps.
Another double pack of Bounty bars
An entire six-pack of double-finger KitKats
A bag of crisps
Four sachets of tomato cup-a-soup
A very large coffee from the concession in the foyer.

The person who ate EVERY SINGLE ITEM ON THAT LIST was sitting beside me in the office today.  She arrived after 9.00am, and her first words were ''I'm really tired.  Where have you put my fan?''  I had no idea what she was talking about, but it transpired that she thought I'd deprived her of her electric fan.  Eventually, the fan came to light.  It had been put under the desk - presumably by the evening staff.  Cue small hissy fit on the subject of thoughtless people, because she ''really can't do without my fan''.  By now, it was 10.am.  She hadn't done any work at all.  She'd had breakfast, hunted for the fan, and wandered about with one of her doughnuts and her bucket of coffee.

The fan finally went on - on the highest setting.  Me, being understanding about ''women of a certain age'', said nothing.  I wanted her to feel comfy.

Eventually, still moaning about how tired she was, she sat down and did some desultory tapping on the keyboard for about a minute.  Then she got up and wandered about a bit more.  Sat down again.  Tapped.  Got up.  Had a chat with someone in another department.  Ate stuff.  All on repeat.  By this time, the air around the two desks was actually frigid - the fan was pointed directly at me, and I was getting quite uncomfortable. Plus, every time I tried to scan something, the papers blew straight out of the top of the scanner.  When she returned from one of her trips, I leaned over.  ''Hi'', says I (and this is verbatim)  ''Without making yourself uncomfortable in any way, as I know what being hot can be like, would it be possible for you to angle the fan just a little bit, please, just so that it's not blowing directly across both desks?''

Sweet baby Jeebus, you'd have thought I'd asked her to hand over her food stash.

I got harangued about ''not understanding'', about how people are ''always hiding her fan'', about the ''special permission'' she has to use the fan because ''she needs it''. Oh, and she was also ''really, REALLY tired''.  Then she moved the fan about an inch to the right.  It was still blowing icy air across both desks and down my neck, but at least I could use the scanner without everything blowing out of the hopper.  Then the huffing started.  Then the theatrical blowing out of air, then fanning herself with a folder - because she was ''too hot'', even though the fan was still fully on.   Anyone who came within earshot heard about it.  This, along with the eating, went on until 2.30pm, when she left. Before she left, she swept a load of used staples off her desk and straight onto the floor. She didn't even turn the fan off. 

Pretty sure the two of us are not going to be making friends with each other any time soon. Today has not been a good day.

Butterball went home sick.  Unfortunately, she has seen fit to share her germs with several of her colleagues (me included).  Did I say today has not been a good day?

I chipped one of my back teeth whilst eating an oatcake.  Good day?  Nope.  Not today. Not feeling the love...