It was 8:59. I sat down with an eerily good mood present around me. A self-congratulatory smile adorned my face at the thought of how wise I’d been when deciding to wear a jumper to work. My common sense had, for once, won out, over-powering the part of my heart that was yelling, “It’s July, you tit, it will be warm!” It wasn’t. It was freezing.
As I turned on my over-the-top massive Mac screen to begin whatever joyous task the day at work would present me with, a figure approached beside me. The usual morning question of, “Tea, Ash?” flittered through the disgruntled Tuesday morning air, being met with the usual morning response of, “Yes. Tea. Of course tea. Who the hell do you think I am? The sort of person who WOULDN’T want tea?” The bearer of such kind gestures skipped merrily away to the kitchenette, tea orders ringing in his ears and his mind probably already beginning to wander how he was expected to carry back so many mugs without spilling a drop.
On my massive, over-the-top Mac screen, my email folder popped up telling me once again that it did not recognise itself and that it wasn’t sure just what was expected of it. “The server does not recognise ‘Mail’,” flashed the message. Well introduce yourself then. I’m sure Mail is lovely and if you just got to know one another you’d get along fine, instead of these constant rude reminders that you keep forgetting who he is and refusing to accept any prior knowledge of his mere existence. The naïve part of my brain, which some have suggested is all of it, expected some exciting new emails to pop up, offering me amazing new copy-based challenges to overcome and the opportunity to fill my proverbial boots (I was wearing converse today, which are more commonly considered trainers rather than boots,) with word related fun and adventure. Of course this did not happen. In fact today I received no new emails of any scale of excitement whatsoever, which is not that unusual, but still. Maybe the early morning good mood was getting the better of me? I must calm down.
I opened up whatever work it was I had been working on previously, suddenly remembering that it was really quite dull and watching as at least some of my good mood ran hurriedly away before it could be dashed by the incoming sense of foreboding reality. Soon it came back though, on its knees with begging cup in hand, as the afore mentioned promise of tea made its way carefully down the corridor. The gentle clanging of china on china alerted any previously weary ears and soon all were pricked like a fox on the run from some angry basset hounds. The bringer of such well received gifts had been clever and used a tray to carry said chine, thus minimalizing the risk of spillages significantly compared to the lesser often tested method of hugging all the mugs together and holding them like a long lost child. I felt my particular mug approach as if our souls were connected, and truth be told, they may be. We have shared some good times, tea and I. Today’s mug was sponsored by a theatre company, opposed to yesterday’s, which was bearing a festive theme. That was nice.
I had a mint in my mouth at the time of tea’s arrival. I like to think that the chewing of mints or gum enables me to focus, a bit like US marines claimed in the Vietnam War. They said that chewing gum narrowed their minds and heightened their senses, making them more of a force to be reckoned with. Later on in life they would claim that gum was responsible for the deaths of thousands of innocent Vietnamese children too. My claim is that gum increases my SEO heavy copywriting ability, but in reality I just like the taste of mints. Spearmint, if possible, but I’d been forced into a peppermint purchase today by Boots lack of stocktaking. I crunched the mint with my now plaque reduced teeth (magic mints) and excitedly picked up what would surely be the first of many caffeine filled mugs today.
Now I knew that the first sip would taste a little odd. Mint and tea do not mix well, unless it is mint-tea, in which case you’re a freak and shouldn’t be drinking that rubbish. But I could never have expected the taste that was about to make friends with my tongue. As the steaming liquid passed my lips I instantly knew something was up. As a diabetic my sugar-smelling senses are highly tuned, but alas, this time they kicked in too late. Maybe they were distracted by the prevailing scent of mint? Maybe the cold air had hampered their abilities? Whatever it was, they missed it before there was nothing more they could do to prevent it. Sugar had entered my system.
The tea tasted vile. My hairs rose up in unison like a cat being startled in the night. What swine had done this to me? Who dare fill my nectar with my poison? It clearly states on the studio drinks list that Ash has “No Sugar.” It states this for a reason.
I cannot pretend I never eat sugar, in fact doing such a thing would be foolish as even a type 1 diabetic needs a little sugar in their diet. But normally my sugar is contained in fruit or masked by masses of carbs, just like the doctor ordered. Never is it heaped into a mug and poured down my throat. Never is it consumed in near pure granular form.
I felt sick. I felt disgusting. I wanted to wretch up right then but I feared that would make a mess of my over-the-top massive Mac screen and I’m unsure of the policy when it comes to staff replacing damaged office equipment. I held it in. Not that vomiting would have helped the situation. By then the sugar was already making its way into my veins, into my blood, mocking the low levels of insulin that were battling bravely to fight it back. The day was ruined before it had even begun. My body was in shock. My life may well have been shortened by that one dip of deadly, liver-wrecking tea.
The culprit sat calmly down to my right. He was far enough away for me not to be able to reach his neck to throttle him, and he may have been completely unaware of what damage his actions may have caused. But if he was then that was entirely his own fault. They all know. The list is written in 16-point font, it’s impossible to miss.
I hope he has a sleepless night tonight. I’ll be putting anthrax in his tea next time I make any.