Went to get my first cup of coffee this morning and…well, things got a little… Oh, crap. It was like this.

The kitchen is past the restrooms, through a door into shipping/receiving, hang a right, pass the omigodyouspilledtoxicchemicalsonyourselfrinseitoffNOW sink and what can be the “clean” room when it’s needed and then there’s the kitchen. Home of COFFEE. Yay. So, yes, headed over to get my first cup of the day — I’d already been working for a couple of hours by then — and the new guy in shipping/receiving was talking to one of the other folks in that department, and I heard the words, “I’d live at the beach. Not Venice, but still…” and New Guy, who is maybe 22, looked up at me. When I paused, he asked:

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