The rule of murphy's law. Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. Or alternatively the idiom "it never rains, but it pours" can also work.

It started early in the morning when the replicator broke down, only materializing the top half of her uniform. She irritably muttered about needing to borrow a pair of boots, panties, and pants from another officer.

As she reached for the intercom to file a maintenance ticket, the lights went red, an alarm klaxon sounded, and the intercom blared to life. "Admiral to the bridge"

Regulations dictated that in an emergency situation, especially a red alert, the commanding officer's priority is to the welfare of the ship and crew. Her sense of modesty had to take a backseat to mitigating or resolving the emergency.

"Fine time for the fucking replicator to break down!" She snapped, already envisioning the gossip that will spread across the ship if they managed to survive whatever caused the ship to go into red alert. And if anyone so much as asks why she's not wearing anything below the waist, she'll make sure the next week's worth of duty shifts involves them degaussing the transporters with only a micro-resonator.