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You ever have that one coworker who's so chipper in the morning that you suspect they've replaced their coffee with pure optimism? I mean, I need my caffeine fix just to crack a smile at 9 AM, but they're practically doing cartwheels into the office. I tried asking them what their secret is. You know what they said? "I just love Mondays!" Who loves Mondays? Even Garfield, the cartoon cat, is like, "Nah, pass me the lasagna and let me sleep." I'm convinced my coworker is actually an alien sent to infiltrate the workplace with excessive enthusiasm.
And then there's the office small talk. You can't escape it. "How was your weekend?" they ask. Now, I don't know about you, but my weekend was spent binge-watching Netflix and questioning life choices. But I can't say that, so I'm like, "Oh, you know, wild and crazy!" Meanwhile, the most exciting thing that happened was that my cat learned a new trick. Yeah, he can now knock stuff off the counter with extra flair. I'm practically living with a feline magician.
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Let's talk about the office fridge, the Bermuda Triangle of lunches. I swear, there's a secret society of lunch thieves operating in there. You label your lunch like you're sending it off to space with NASA, and it still disappears. I caught someone red-handed once. They were eating my sandwich like it was the last supper. I confronted them, and you know what their excuse was? "I thought it was mine." Really? Because last time I checked, my name isn't "Deli Club Sandwich."
But I've come up with a solution. I started bringing a lunch bag with a picture of my face on it looking disappointed. It hasn't stopped the thefts, but now I like to imagine the thief feeling guilty while they munch on my yogurt.
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Can we talk about email for a second? Specifically, that one coworker who turns every email into a Shakespearean drama. You know the type. You get a message, and it's like they're writing the great American novel instead of asking if you have any spare pens. I got an email the other day that was so long; I had to take a lunch break just to finish reading it. By the time I reached the end, I forgot what the point was. It's like they're trying to win a Pulitzer Prize for Most Words Used to Say Nothing Important. And don't get me started on the signature – they've got a quote, their life story, and probably a list of their favorite pizza toppings.
I'm over here just trying to figure out if I need to attend the 3 PM meeting, not decipher a cryptic email like it's the Da Vinci Code. Can we just bring back carrier pigeons or something? At least they got straight to the point.
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We've all been in those never-ending meetings, right? I swear some of them are so long; I've aged a year by the time they're over. And there's always that one coworker who turns every meeting into a filibuster. I'm convinced they measure their job satisfaction by how many hours of my life they can waste. I tried counting the "um"s and "uh"s in their presentations once, and I ran out of fingers and toes. If I wanted to listen to someone ramble on without making a point, I'd call my grandma during her stories about her cats.
And don't even get me started on the team-building exercises. If trust falls were an Olympic sport, we'd all be gold medalists by now. I just want to do my job, not participate in a three-legged race with Greg from accounting. I've got deadlines, Greg, deadlines!
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