I Survived What the Logs Deny (Dummy's corner table)

[Test Dummy]

I knew it.
I absolutely knew it.
The universe looked at my day and said,
“Hmm, too peaceful. Let’s ruin that.”

I’m sitting here, trying to enjoy my drink, guarding my table from random objects, flies, drafts, and branded cloths, when suddenly…

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

A drill.
A drill so loud it could wake the ancestors of the building.

I jump.
My mug jumps.
Even the GenXTribe beer mat tries to escape.

I look over — and there they are.
Two workers.
Helmets.
Tools.
A ladder that looks like it wants to fall on me specifically.

They’re renovating the restroom.
THE RESTROOM.
Right next to my corner table.

Every few seconds:

KLANG.
BANG.
THUD‑THUD‑THUD.

It sounds like they’re fighting a metal dragon in there.

I try to take a sip —
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
The vibration nearly carbonates my beer.

I ask the tender,
“Why now?”

He shrugs and says,
“Scheduled maintenance, sir.”

Scheduled maintenance.
SCHEDULED. MAINTENANCE.

Who schedules maintenance during peak Dummy hours?

The workers keep shouting things like:
“HAND ME THE BIG ONE!”
“NO, THE OTHER BIG ONE!”
“WHY IS THIS PIPE SCREAMING?”

I don’t know what’s happening in there, but I’m convinced the restroom is fighting back.

Dust starts drifting out of the doorway like the tavern is shedding skin.
My table gets a light sprinkle of renovation snow.
The GenXTribe cloth looks offended.

And the worst part?

Every time the drill stops, I think it’s over.
I relax.
I breathe.
I sip.

Then:

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

I’m going to lose my mind.
If they start hammering again, I’m filing a complaint.
A formal one.
With diagrams.
And a decibel chart.