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Microwave, we need to get a few things straight here. First and foremost, five consecutive beeps is more than enough to alert me that you have finished cooking what I’ve asked you to cook. I swear to God, you beep louder than anything has ever beeped before. At 6:00 AM, this kind of behavior is alarming and unnecessary.
Another point of contention is that button of yours marked “time.” If I want you to cook something, I cannot just start pressing number buttons. No, that would be too simple. Instead, you force me to verify that I am indeed planning on using the number buttons as an indication of how long I expect you to nuke my food. Is this step really necessary? I cannot be expected to remember this requirement of yours at the aforementioned hour of 6 in the morning, and I just end up fumbling confusedly with your buttons until I remember “oh yeah, the microwave can’t understand even the simplest directions until I press ‘time,’” which makes me even more irritated and unable to handle your ludicrous beeping.
You also seem to misunderstand the meaning of “defrost.” When I ask you to defrost something, it means that I want you to make it unfrozen enough to cook on the stove (which, by the way, is way better at its job than you.) It does not mean that I want you to cook the shit out of a quarter-sized portion of my flank steak while leaving the rest completely frozen. Are you high? Why would I want you to do that?
Additionally, you seem to define a “day” differently than I do. Where I come from, a day is equal to exactly 24 hours, but you seem to be under the impression that 24 hours and 58 seconds is an acceptable approximation. I assure you, it is not. You have a clock in your stupid face for a reason: to help me tell time so that I may be punctual in my activities. When you get sloppy and lose track of a minute every day, it really adds up. This is especially troublesome because I was brought up to believe that clocks should not be doubted in their ability to track the passage of time. I trusted you, and you let me down. I know that being off by 17 minutes doesn’t seem like much to you because you are a microwave and your life doesn’t involve going places and doing things, but as a human, 17 minutes can mean the difference between getting an A on a lab report and not even being allowed to turn it in. To put that in perspective, do you remember that time I overcooked that piece of chicken? Remember how it made you stink for about 19 months? That piece of chicken was only overcooked for about 2 minutes. Are you beginning to grasp the seriousness of this problem?
If you are unwilling or unable to perform the basic functions for which you were designed, I may be forced to replace you. I feel bad about having to get rid of you, but I can’t exactly keep an annoying chunk of beeping plastic around just for sentimentality and I could really use the counter space.
So now the ball is in your court, Microwave. If you don’t want to end up being a chair for some dump-dwelling vagrant, I would suggest that you reevaluate your behavior.
Sincerely,
Allie
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