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Can we talk about microwave etiquette in the office? It's like a culinary battleground in there. One person is heating up leftover fish, and suddenly the entire floor smells like a seaside restaurant. And then there's that person who stands there, staring at the microwave like it's a time machine that will magically make their sad frozen dinner taste better. Newsflash: it won't. But hey, at least they've mastered the art of slowly rotating their plate like they're in a gourmet cooking show.
I tried bringing in popcorn once, thinking I could be the office hero. Instead, I became the office villain when the whole place smelled like burnt kernels for the rest of the day. Note to self: Stick to the pre-packaged snacks. Microwave popcorn is a hazardous endeavor.
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You ever notice how work feels like the Olympics sometimes? I mean, not the cool kind with athletic prowess and national pride. No, I'm talking about the "who can drink the most coffee without having a heart attack" kind of Olympics. I tried my hand at the office Olympics the other day. I call it the "Desk Chair Spin." You know, where you spin around in your chair as fast as you can without throwing up. I thought I nailed it, but apparently, HR doesn't appreciate unexpected vomit in the breakroom.
And then there's the "Email Sprint." It's like a 100-meter dash, but instead of a finish line, you just collapse at your desk in exhaustion because Karen from accounting sent you another 10 emails about the upcoming potluck.
I swear, if procrastination was an Olympic sport, we'd all be gold medalists. I've never seen a group of people collectively waste so much time while still somehow managing to meet deadlines.
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Who else loves conference calls? Nothing like pretending to pay attention while you're actually binge-watching cat videos because, let's be honest, your presence on the call is just a formality. And don't get me started on the awkward silence when someone forgets to mute their microphone. Suddenly, you're thrust into the symphony of their barking dog, screaming kids, and the sound of them stress-eating chips like it's the end of the world.
I swear, if conference calls were an Olympic sport, we'd all be champions in the "Mute Button Marathon." It's a delicate dance of muting and unmuting, hoping no one hears you complaining about the meeting while pretending to be fully engaged.
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Can we talk about Casual Fridays for a second? It's like the office's attempt at letting us express our individuality, but it always turns into a fashion disaster. I mean, how many Hawaiian shirts and khaki shorts can one office handle? And let's not forget that one guy who takes Casual Fridays a bit too seriously. He shows up in a three-piece suit like, "Oh, sorry, I thought we were dressing casually classy today." Dude, we're not pitching stocks; we're avoiding eye contact with our boss in the elevator.
I tried to spice things up once by wearing my "fun" socks. Turns out, HR doesn't find socks with dancing tacos and avocados as professional. Who knew?
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