Municipal employees expecting their usual Monday morale boost were met instead with a blinking notice taped to the Town Hall water cooler that read, in shaky ink, “I NEED TIME FOR ME.”
The cooler, a 12‑year veteran of public service and the backbone of countless awkward conversations, apparently entered an unapproved sabbatical at 4:52 a.m. Maintenance staff discovered it humming faintly, dispensing nothing but a weary gurgle described by witnesses as “the sound of a soul trying to nap.”
Workers arriving for the early shift stood in cautious silence, unsure whether to fetch cups or offer condolences. Accounts differ on who first attempted a reset, but sources agree the cooler responded by coughing up a single ice cube before flashing “NOT TODAY” on its tiny LED—a remarkable feat, given no one recalls it ever having an LED.
The Facilities Department attempted a swap-in with a backup unit, only for the primary cooler to emit a low, territorial buzz that sent one intern scurrying behind the copier. Management opted to avoid escalation. “We respect its journey,” said Acting Deputy Clerk Maxine Featherby, holding a mug of dry sadness.
The cooler’s sudden burnout has sparked speculation. Some blame the recent surge in holiday-potluck cider dilution, while others cite the emotional toll of enduring seven consecutive budget meetings. One staffer, speaking on condition of anonymity, claimed the cooler had been “dispensing warmer truths lately.”
Despite its hiatus, Town Hall officials stress that hydration remains available via the downstairs faucet, which has reportedly prepared a statement reading, “I GUESS IT’S MY TIME TO SHINE.”
No timeline has been given for the cooler’s return, though a Post-it found nearby suggested it was “seeking clarity” and “possibly a Brita retreat.”
Residents are advised to bring their own beverages until further notice—or at least until the cooler finishes whatever journey of self-discovery it has belatedly begun.
