Give Me Some (Office) Space


Let's get a few things straight:

  • No, I don't have a case of "the Mondays." It bums me out to no end when you keep suggesting I do.
  • I don't know what "PC Load Letter" means, or if that error message even comes up on our printer. In similar regard, I have no idea why it tells you there's a paper jam when there is, in fact, no paper jam.
  • We don't have anything called TPS Reports around here. Please stop complaining about them as they are fictional and, thus, not worth complaining about.
  • Whatever the hell it is you keep mumbling about your stapler...just stop. No one can understand you. And no one knows of your stapler's whereabouts. You probably just lost the goddamn thing.
  • Yeah, I guess Michael Bolton is a no-talent ass-clown. I don't know what else you want me to say on the matter.
  • And dear God, if you don't stop telling people you're going to "show that chick from Logistics my O-Face," HR is definitely going to fire you for sexual harassment.
Garrett, what I'm trying to say is this isn't Office Space, all right. No matter how badly you want your shitty cubicle job to be a quirky, endlessly quotable movie, it's never going to be. I suggest you face the fact that this boring, dead-end job of yours is just that: a job. Nothing more. It doesn't star the underrated and incomparable Ron Livingston. It doesn't have a surrealistic ending where everything works out fine for the main characters despite all their felony-worthy shenanigans. It ends with you eventually retiring...or dying, since you have that heart thing. And it lasts a hell of a lot longer than two hours.

Replace the Post-Its with my urine and this will be you if you don't shut up.

Fuckin' A,
Your coworker

P.S. Stop trying to stick those annoying pins on me. I don't want any of your stupid fucking "pieces of flair." It's not funny and if you prick me with one again it's going straight up your pee hole.

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