That's a Yellow Flag, For Sure.

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Eric,

I know you're upset about yesterday's football game. I understand that your team losing to their division rival isn't something that's going to put a smile on your face. Because you love football. Like, in an obsessive way that you've probably never even loved a sexual partner. But that's fine.

I don't care that you watch sports like an Ethiopian child would watch a hot dog eating contest, all bug
eyed and salivating. I don't care that you place all of your hopes and dreams on a bunch of millionaires throwing balls to each other.

But I do care that you deal with a loss by pissing all up in my filing cabinet. Man...so many levels of uncool happening all over those manila folders. Lucky for both of us no one actually uses filing cabinets anymore. Otherwise I'd...well, I'd probably ask you to not do that anymore.

But in person.

Hopefully, your team makes it to the playoffs. I can't bear to consider the massacre you'd bring upon my index cards.

Throwing the "yellow" flag,
Your coworker

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