It’s no secret that in America and other important places around the world, we like to drink our water out of drums. We want to see a big drum of water, and then we want to squirt that water into assorted containment items as a conduit to our mouths. (I try to push the cups.)
We order our water from the Culligan Man. It’s kind of a big deal.
The Culligan Man (he has no real name, far as I can tell) delivers the drums once a month. They are stored in the hallway, sort of on display for all to see. HEY CULLIGAN MAN!, we proclaim with our drums.
As the month goes on, we drink drum after drum of water. Mostly we transport the water from the drum to the coffee machine, but it is also used for tea, oatmeal, and even, on occasion, the straight-up drinking of agua.
Long story short (not really, sorry), when the drum is empty, we have to take the empty container off of the water machine and put the new drum on. Guess who does that? XTREME people, that’s who. Mostly tiny secretaries with close to no muscle tone.
But THIS month, YESTERDAY, in fact, the Culligan Man showed up when we were pretty close to the end of the drum. My coworker pointed out that if we could just use up that water, the Culligan Man could change the drum for us.
So we all gathered around the water cooler to drink as much water as we could. Did we do it? Did we finish the drum and alleviate ourselves of the turning of the new water bottle?
That was a lot of water.
I have to go to the bathroom.