Morning crisis

Is there anything more depressing than strolling into the office at the stroke of 9:15 (oops), filling the kettle, spooning some coffee into a mug, pouring the water onto it, savouring the aroma of the lifesaving nectar, then opening the fridge to discover there's no bloody milk?

"Drat!" I exclaimed. Well, obviously I didn't actually say that, I said something rather ruder that attracted the attention of several colleagues. A discussion ensued, during which I proposed the theory of a milk-warning system, whereupon should the first arrival to the office notice there is no or little milk, telephone calls or text messages would be sent to somebody to pick up some milk on the way in. If they were unable to fulfill it, it should be passed onto the next person on the list and so on.

With this idea in mind, I realised that one person was not in yet so I grabbed my phone from my bag to give him a call. And on my phone was a message from a colleague. Asking me to get some milk on the way in.

Drat.

I tried to contact my other colleague but couldn't, so I sent him a text message. Predictably, he didn't notice it, so we still had no milk.

Of course, the really really sensible solution would be to arrange for a local milkman to deliver a couple of pints of the stuff every day, as we used to do, but that got cancelled a while back because it was too expensive or something. I don't know what he charged for his milk, but if we have to cancel it because it's too expensive, he must be on a good racket there.