In a baffling case that’s left IT support scratching their heads and a customer clutching their cup, the Helpdesk Reception team received an urgent complaint this morning after a customer’s tea reportedly refused to stop stirring itself.
The ticket, logged under the mysteriously vague category of “Kitchen Appliances / Domestic Bewitchments,” detailed the bizarre incident. The caller, a Ms. Penelope Crumble from Hathersage, described how she had prepared a perfectly normal cup of builder’s tea only to watch in disbelief as the teaspoon began spinning in the mug of its own accord. “It was like the spoon had developed a mind of its own, swirling and twirling non-stop,” Ms. Crumble explained. “I tried to take it out, but it just kept stirring when I dropped it back in. It’s like it’s hostile towards me or something.”
Helpdesk technician Bob Staples, who usually handles issues relating to WiFi and forgotten passwords, was promptly assigned the case. “My initial thought was a software bug or maybe a Bluetooth-enabled spoon that had gone rogue,” Bob said. After my standard WiFi reboot in the kitchen, I was clearly out of my depth.”
Attempts to isolate the issue involved unplugging kitchen gadgets, resetting the kettle’s internal memory, and even consulting the household toaster, but the spoon persisted in its autonomous spinning. “It’s clearly a case of either haunted cutlery or some existential crisis by the teaspoon,” joked Bob in an email update to his supervisor.
In an unexpected move, the Helpdesk posted an internal memo hinting that the anomaly might be due to “quantum levitation caused by caffeine molecules reaching critical sapience levels.” This has since been retracted, possibly to avoid panic or international scientific inquiries.
By midday, desperate for resolution, Ms. Crumble was advised to try removing the spoon and replacing it with a different utensil, which thankfully resulted in a completely still cup of tea. When asked if she planned to keep the possessed spoon, she replied, “Oh no, it’s been banished to the dishwasher limbo zone. I’m waiting for the exorcist referral from Helpdesk.”
Helpdesk manager Linda Tinker promised to escalate the matter. “We’ve never seen a ticket quite like this. Our standard response protocols don’t cover ‘paranormal beverage disturbances.’ We might need a multidisciplinary team for kitchen-related hauntings going forward.”
For now, the Helpdesk is awaiting any further self-stirring incident reports, and Bob Staples has requested a transfer back to normal tech support—anything involving computers rather than caffeinated supernatural phenomena. Meanwhile, Ms. Crumble’s tea enjoys its newfound tranquillity with a boring, motionless spoon firmly under control.