A Follow-up Letter to the Stockroom in its Entirety

Evidently I gave your companion too much credit, O stockroom idiot. Would you like to know why?

Because despite the fact that I clearly specified I wanted the Brassica eggs to come in on MONDAY, I received an e-mail today stating they were in and ready for us to pick them up.

Now I do not know what PLANET you two live on, but according to our Earth calender, today is Friday. Thus, we are not ready to set the eggs up. Our fucking PLANTS aren't ready for the eggs, for God's sake. Do you expect me to make them grow FASTER?

So I call to figure out what is going on, and I am told that not only is the more competent of your little stooge duo gone for the day so I have to deal with you, but we have yet to be put on an access list to be able to get into the room with the incubator, and an aquarium is not available for us to use despite the fact that we gave you two. weeks. fucking. NOTICE.

My Friday, instead of being a nice relaxing afternoon at home out of the rain, snuggled in a blanket and letting my mind not think for a while, is now going to consist of me trying to find a place to put these damned eggs because everyone else has decided to fuck up.

I can suggest a place, stockroom. For all the equipment you were supposed to have for me. Guess what it is. Go on.