Aaaaah!
The IRC (Irritating Work Colleague) rears her ugly head. I had one, too. One of her (self-imposed) tasks was to ensure that none of the spoons left the kitchen, or remained unwashed for more than twenty seconds, and she spent a large part of her day counting, reminding, checking people's desks, washing spoons and sending e-mails. (Blanket e-mails. To the entire university, not even to just the department.) saying stuff like;
"I have had to wash EIGHT spoons which were left in the sink already today and it is BARELY 10 O'CLOCK. PLEASE ENSURE THAT ALL SPOONS ARE LEFT IN A STATE TTHAT THE NEXT PERSON CAN USE THEM.
ALSO, there should be TWELVE spoons in the kitchen. There are only ELEVEN. I DO NOT have time to search this ENTIRE BUILDING for spoons."
Not surprisingly she became known as the "Spoon Police" and was an object of ridicule and scorn, but a bloody PITA, too.
One colleague who left for another post, left a little gift behind for us all in the kitchen (but especially for the SP). I was a pack of 12 teaspoons, tied together with nylon cord in a spiderweb pattern (no spoon was more than two inches from its neighbour) and nailed firmly to the kitchen wall.
We all pee'd ourselves laughing whereas SP was apoplectic with righteous indignation.
Ironically, I hadn't particularly liked this colleague, but when I saw what she had done, I wished I had made the time to get to know her better.
We could have been such friends . . . .
And you wouldn't believe what grade she was on . . . but she had tenure.