The Great Office Thermostat War

At age 28, I found myself locked in a passive-aggressive war over the office thermostat. It all started on a Monday morning when I walked into what could only be described as a corporate igloo. Someone—some monster—had set the thermostat to 64 degrees. Sixty-four! Inside!

I, a person of reason and warmth, immediately adjusted it to a civilized 72. By lunch, it was back at 64. This was not a coincidence. This was war.

The next day, I arrived early and cranked it to 75—a tactical preemptive strike. By mid-morning, it was back to 64. I left passive-aggressive notes. They left cryptic responses like “Some of us don’t want to sweat through our shirts.” To which I replied, “Some of us don’t want to contract hypothermia at our desks.”

Things escalated. I bought a space heater. They hid the space heater. I locked the thermostat cover. They stole the key. It was an arms race of petty proportions.

Eventually, HR intervened. A compromise was reached—69 degrees. Nobody was happy, which apparently meant it was “fair.”

Lesson learned? Some battles aren’t about winning. They’re about making sure everyone else suffers equally.