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You know, I've been working in an office for a while now, and I've noticed something fascinating – the unspoken competitive spirit that arises among office mates. It's like we're all part of this secret Office Olympics, and nobody wants to admit they're training for it. I mean, we've got the "Stapler Toss." You think you're just tossing a stapler onto your desk, but in reality, you're showcasing your arm strength, precision, and ability to avoid hitting Karen from HR in the head.
And then there's the "Printer Dash." The printer is always on the other side of the office, and when you hit print, it's a race against time. You sprint like Usain Bolt, weaving through cubicles, just to grab those papers before someone else mistakenly thinks they're theirs.
I'm telling you, folks, if the Olympics committee ever decided to add "Avoiding Small Talk While Getting Coffee," we'd have gold medals raining down in the break room.
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Now, the office snack situation is a battlefield. It's a war zone in the break room, and everyone's a soldier fighting for the last bag of pretzels. Have you noticed that one person who brings in the fancy organic snacks, like kale chips and quinoa clusters? They're on a one-person mission to turn the office into a wellness retreat. Meanwhile, the rest of us are just trying to survive on a diet of stale donuts and regret.
And don't get me started on the unspoken rule of the communal fridge. You label your lunch with your name, the date, and a giant skull and crossbones, and somehow, your sandwich still disappears. It's like there's a secret society of sandwich thieves operating in the shadows.
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We all know there are those office mates who never seem to speak above a whisper. It's like they're part of a secret society of office ninjas, communicating through telepathy rather than words. You try to have a conversation with them, and it feels like you're in a spy movie, leaning in and whispering like you're divulging classified information. And when they answer, it's so quiet you wonder if they're actually speaking or if it's just the office air conditioner making strange noises.
I've started bringing a magnifying glass to work, not because I'm trying to solve mysteries, but because I'm trying to read the lips of the office whisperers from across the room.
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Let's talk about email etiquette in the office. It's like we're all part of this grand Shakespearean play, but instead of soliloquies, we have passive-aggressive subject lines. You get an email with the subject line: "Just a Friendly Reminder." Oh, come on, Susan, we both know there's nothing friendly about that reminder. It's like being slapped with a velvet glove.
And then there's the classic "Per My Last Email." Translation: "Are you blind, or just pretending? Let me break it down for you in simple words because apparently, my previous email was written in hieroglyphics."
I've even started reading my emails with suspenseful music playing in the background. It adds a whole new dimension to the drama of deciphering whether Brenda from Accounting is genuinely happy or just passive-aggressively using exclamation points.
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