Glass Hammers

There was a kitchen that didn't have a tin opener, and a kitchen that didn't have a tea towel.
The kitchen that didn't have the tin opener had no tin-opener for at least six months.
The kitchen that didn't have the tea towel had no tea towel for apparently a year.
I worked one day in both of them. They had a lot of tins and things that get wet.
No one knew where the one without the tea towel was. I'd been given directions to where it wasn't. There'd been some sort of google map postcode-coding error or GMPTE journey search function spasm, but I only realised when instead of arriving at the offices of a company, I arrived at nowhere in particular, and it was a large circle of townhouses probably all with a decent amount of tea towels in them.
People came out of the houses one at a time and I asked them where these offices might be, and none of them knew. And the woman in Londis didn't know, and the three girls at the hotel didn't know, and my bosses on the phone didn't know, and the guy in Topps Tiles didn't know.
The taxi driver knew, and he let me know too, and also let me know that traffic lights on roundabouts is a ridiculous idea.

Next week there will be a kitchen with no knives and a menu with no food. I will turn up in glasses with no lenses and a shirt with no buttons.
I tried to get a job with no pay. I think they call it "volunteering". There was a form. I filled it in and out. They said thanks, and then nothing happened.