Let's be a Typical Office

I'm the packages that show up to general delivery for the entire company using the corporate address, with no recipient or department or routing code. They will be in the mail room forever, or until some poor dolt is sent in there to try to locate them months later.

I’m the coworker who knocks to ask about your weekend just as you were picking up the phone to get some work done.

I’m the boss who emails you to schedule an important but unspecified “chat” for next week.

I'm the non-stop abortions in the break room.

I’m the guy in the bathroom jerking off.

I’m the co-worker with a medical condition that requires her to loudly clear her throat about once every minute. I am slowly driving all my colleagues to homicidal rage.

I’m the frau who constantly brings in junk food and gets offended when people don’t eat it, even if they literally can’t.

I'm the co-worker who emailed "Check your Voice Mail for my message."

I'm the first rage email from the boss upon our return.

Well, that didn't take long.

I'm working from home one day and then taking 3 sick day in a row in response. Bitch, I'm retiring anytime I want.

BTW that's "working" from home one day.

I'm the note taped to the refrigerator in the break room admonishing you that "The fridge WILL be cleaned out on THIS Friday!! Your expired food WILL be thrown out!!"

Someone threw out my attendant note on the microwave--"CLEAN UP after youself [sic]!!!"--last week.

I’m the smell of despair: a microwaved Lean Cuisine frozen dinner. My funk will hang in the air for hours.

I'm the headache-inducing smell of scented hand sanitizer.

I'm the burnt popcorn aroma.

I'm an undersized, bruised pear, and am the last, dreary piece of fruit in the company-sponsored weekly break room fruit basket.

I'm all that's left on Thursday, since the smart ones started hoarding the apples and bananas on Monday morning.

I'm soggy and I smell.

I'm Ginny in payroll (finally sabotged the old clerk's job). I docked you and the new shipping clerk two hours of pay for the anal you two did back in July on company time. I'm not docking you for doing it, I'm docking you for not uploading it to Xtube, you selfish whores. Next time, THINK AHEAD!

I am the empty supply closet. Cases of hand sanitizer mysteriously walked away from me.

I am the teary woman who is in my early 20s. I am always on my phone in the lunch room text arguing with my boyfriend.

I'm the guy in the next cube loudly describing his vacation planning on the phone to six people. The week after, he loudly describes what that vacation was like to the same six people. Rinse and repeat.

I am the coworkers who have been having an affair at the office. We think we are being sneaky, but everybody is just waiting for our spouses to find out so things can really get good.

I'm the tough old broad of a secretary who keeps this place afloat, knows what forms to fill out and what all the correct procedures are. I survived the pandemic and am back in the office. I'm in my 70s.

I have a high-school education. They really don't make them like me anymore .

R21 I miss that lady from my office!

Right, R21. That stereotype went out with Mrs Blankenship. Nice try though.

I'm the needy, borderline sociopath who invades the boss's office to ask questions even before he sets his bag down and turns on his computer. I ignore the countless requests to give the boss thirty minutes at the start of the day to settle in before invading his office.

I am the miserable guy who has only been working there for five years, but is already planning retirement.

I'm the copy machine. I almost always have a sign on me that says "Out of order. Part has been ordered"

I'm the cutesy email signature from your frau coworker, with her name, title, email, and phone all in different colors and fancy, unreadable cursive fonts. She spent hours of office time "designing" me.

I'm the scary looking screen that comes up telling you that the company server blocked access to this website and if you really need it for business purposes, contact the IT dept.

I'm the parent who expects the single folks to do my job because I need a time off for my kids' activities......and illnesses.....

I am locked in battle with you, R26. I wake every morning sick at heart, knowing you’re lurking there, no lights blinking, no purring, idling engine, but I tell you now: the day will come that you WILL make a copy for me. I’ve called the repair guy on you so many times people are saying we’re in love.

Can someone post one that doesn't come from a TV show?

I am the zero fucks left to give on a Friday afternoon!

I'm the guy who returns to work after lunch, and catches his cubicle mate looking at naked women on the computer. He tries to hide the screen, but his cock is rock hard in those slacks he's wearing. If I was in any way attracted to him, I might jump on the opportunity. Sadly, that is not the case.

We are two or three grown men who obsessively discuss the latest capeshit films for weeks before, and then weeks after, they come out. None of us is under 35, but we never seemed to develop grown-up tastes. Our bitter coworker who has to listen to our bloviating assumes that the only things we eat are french fries, chicken tenders, and "bisketti" with butter.

I’m the farts that people can’t hold back as easily, having spent the last 18 months letting ‘em rip at home.

I am the office frau who dominates every holiday buffet and pot luck lunch. I want to be Martha Stewart, but my coworkers know I’m just another Hyacinth Bucket.

I’m the FRAUMAGGEDON.

I'm the phone that rings and rings because the young woman at reception has her Air Pods in, watching TikTok videos on her cell phone, and does not hear the phone ringing. When she manages to answer the phone, she invariably messes up transferring the call and hangs up on clients.

I'm the person who has at least three Chewy deliveries a week for his gigantic dogs.

The receptionist is really sick of it.

[quote]I'm the phone that rings and rings

Are you dialing in from 1969?

I'm the well-meaning co-worker who keeps a bowl of candy on her desk counter, and who helpfully brings in a box of Dunkin Donuts on Friday mornings.

By the time we leave on Friday, our hands are trembling from the sugar overload and we scream at the boyfriend over nothing that night.

I'm the pronouns everyone now has to put under his/her/their/its name on emails.

I'm the dreaded Secret Santa ritual at the office Christmas party.

I'm the scarcity of hangers for coats in the winter.

I'm also the total absence of soap in the dispenser over the sinks in the bathroom.

I'm also the blocked toilet in the gents.

I'm the fat slob woman employee who printed out a dozen different dominatrix costumes from Ebay and left them on the printer all afternoon (really happened).

I'm the kitchen drawer filled with years-old soy sauce packets, duck sauce packets, ketchup packets, take-out chopsticks, wadded-up unused napkins and more.

I am the 2 single women who " don't need no men" that make plans to go to the bars friday night and get bloto drunk but then one spends the night depressing the other talking about her one sided love affair with the guy in finance that she fucked that one time last Haloween, and that you don't have the heart to tell her is dating the newbie in accounting.

I am the pile of takeout menus from restaurants, many of which are out of business thanks to Covid

I'm the cute, young, new boy that enjoys flirting with the older guys in my office.

I act like I'm totally interested in everything they say and we have great banter over Teams and text messaging. The poor old slobs don't realize that banter is only during the work week and you dare not text me over the weekend. I'm also called a tease in some circles.

I'm the weekly staff meeting with no agenda, where nobody writes down the actions that are meant to follow.

Next week I'll be exactly the same as this week because nobody will have done anything that was discussed.

I'm the steady stream of well-paid junior associates grabbing leftover gourmet sandwiches from the conference room where the big client meeting was held.

It's almost 3 pm and the sandwiches have been sitting there since noon, but it's easier and faster than actually leaving the building. Plus most of us will throw away the bread and just eat the filling because carbs.

At around 4:30, we will return to see if any of the gourmet brownies and cupcakes are left and will be disappointed to find those platters long gone.

I'm the uncertainty about where and when masks need to be worn and the stink eye (and follow up nasty Slacks) at the guy who walks around with his mask under his nose.

They still have that shit, R43?

I’m the HR cunt, frantically taking notes of all the above. You’ll receive an email from me soon, requesting the set up of an urgent meeting for an important matter that came recently to my attention.

I’m the frau who puts an uplifting quote at the end of her email signature, as if anyone reads that far down.

I'm the FUCKING ASSHOLE who nukes fish in the lunchroom.

I’m the mystery smell in a cubicle that requires the office manager to track down. Eventually it’s discovered that the adorable and slightly redneck field tech has been “watering” his plant with the last drops of Mtn Dew from every can he drank. Over time the sugar creates a foul smelling moldy scum after reacting with the plant’s dirt.

Another time, I, the mystery cubicle smell, cannot be tracked down by the office manager, even after having the cubicle’s carpet steam cleaned and the window seals checked by maintenance. Months later, the cubicle dweller will confess at a bar when she is drunk that I was caused by the shoes she was wearing and she is too mortified to finally confess once she realizes it. We will all have a good laugh over it.

I'm the inability of everyone at the management level to figure out how to clear out a print job jam in the copier.

I'm the lift breakdowns that always occur at lunch.

I am the list of acceptable pronouns on my email signature

I'm the blizzard that blows in around midnight on a Thursday, drops 15" of snow by 5am on Friday, and snows throughout the day, giving everyone at the office a three-day weekend and a Friday watching trash TV, drinking cocoa, and napping whilst another 10"-12" falls on the poor sods whose office insisted they come in, and only gave up and sent them home through the raging elements around noon.

Oh, the scrumptiouness of the alarm going off, a glance out the window telling the tale, the 7am call from the office administrator, the luxurious burrowing back under the covers, the leisurely second cup of coffee watching the news . . .

If there is a more perfect, miraculous event . . . then God has yet to show it to me.

R58, this is what EAs are for.

Oh yes indeed, R61. You make me look forward to the next one. I shall reminisce on your post in Morgan Freeman voice when that glorious day next comes.

I'm the gaggle of Mommys who conspire to cover for each other when they constantly leave the job to do their Mommy shit during work hours.

I'm the ADP online punch clock that runs fast in the morning and slow in the afternoon.

I am the co-worker who leaves Pollack originals in the toilet bowl. Sometimes the seat, and even on occasion the wall.

I am the co-worker who repeatedly comes into your office to speak for 30 non-stop minutes about classic car repairs despite your always telling me you care nothing about cars. I'll keep talking even after you take a phone call or proceed to work on your computer.

I am the co-worker whose illiteracy disallows him to read names on lunch bags in the fridge.

I am the OSHA notice posted in the breakroom, made illegible from the small fire after Sheila microwaved a tuna can.

I am the co-worker who pressures you into proofing every one of my emails and letters so that if mistake gets out we can share the blame.

I'm United Way. The most annoying str8 jock bros with the receeding hairlines join the drive every year. They force you to attend meetings but because it's on work time, you're required to attend and sit through their propaganda of fuckery. I'm the endless, needless voice mails they leave on the company big list, that have the approval of mgt. because United Way is important to their wives. And I'm the 95% of donations made to United Way, that end up in mgt.'s pockets. I know you hate me. But I hate you more.

I’m the fridge stocked with sundry expired yogurts, and Tupperware containers filled with moldy and smelly leftovers.

I'm the coworkers in the hall outside your office loudly discussing last weekend's activities and the coming weekend's plans who look at you like you're the rude one when you finally get up to close your door.

[quote]I'm Ginny in payroll

I'm Ginny in Billing.

I'm the Frau who buys 30 microwave dinners at Costco, fills up the entire freezer with them, and then never eats any of them.

I'm the longtime employee frau who labels her stapler, her scissors and other office supplies

[bold]"BORROWED" FROM DIANE GABRIEL'S DESK[/bold]

I'm the plastic trash bag in your office which gets emptied each night by the cleaning crew, but never ever changed.

I'm the K-cup pod left in the Keurig by everyone after getting their morning coffee.

I'm the gassy middle-aged frau who constantly farts and blames the dog. There is no dog at the office.

I‘m the clanging noises of the football table coming from all the way down the hall. Before lunch break. During lunch break. After lunch break.

Alternatively, I am the annoying, non-stop sound of a ping-pong ball.

R78 oooh...my office has the fancy one, when you flip open the receptacle to add a new pod, the old one magically disappears down the back into a receptacle of sorts.

I'm the harsh fluorescent lights, making everyone look like a vampire.

I am the office redesign for Covid. I am intended to create more open, ventilated space. I am mostly incomplete when workers are summoned back to the office. Accordingly, I result in a denser office population in the completed space (but you’re all vaccinated) oh and a line for the restrooms of which we only have half of what we had before (hey, buddy, you wanna shit? Line starts outside).

I am a pencil sharpener. Despite the fact that even these days, sooner or later, someone will want me, I can never be found.

If you find me at the back of a closet, especially if I'm one of the vintage metal ones with a handle to turn, that clips on to the desk edge and can easily nip off the tip of your finger if you aren't careful, tell no one.

I'm worth a fortune at the local antique mall.

^*that goes for a mint condition Royal, Olivetti, Remington, or Smith Corona, typewriter, too.

We're the deep dives, reaching out, circling back, and key learnings.

I am the transparent crush that the plainest secretary in the place has on the CEO, a middle-aged only slightly paunchy, hearty, broad-shouldered, jovial fellow who is clearly the office Alpha (but who also hasn't a clue about fixing a copier paper jam).

You all laughed at me until the day she came in blushing like an early rose, packed up her desk, and left.

A day later, it came out that the CEO was getting a divorce.

I'm the organisation's Five Year Strategic Plan.

I am the office's day-long Annual Retreat. In order to remove it from the environment of the office itself, a nice conference room at a local hotel is booked, at which breakfast, lunch, and afternoon coffee and snacks will be served. Attendance is mandatory and all are encouraged to be open about "problems" in the work environment, and how these can be solved to improve both the quality of life and the quality of work, for the benefit of all.

I am also the Agenda circulated by HR after consulting with the Facilitator who is hired to lead the Retreat, and whose fee represents the annual salary of many of us.

I am so much the same from one year to the next, nay, from one office to the next, that they could swap me out for the Agenda of the Retreat from an organisation two floors below, and no one would ever know the difference.

You can't lose money placing a wager on the morning being given over to "communication" and what can be done to improve it between management and employees.

I'm the employee who realizes you all google my and name and stalk my social media. And I'm so bored by the rest of you, I'd never bother to do the same

I am the antediluvian Employee of the Month ritual still imposed on you at monthly staff meetings. Everyone knows that the EOM will always come from the Dept. with the most staff, and those Dept. members take turns as EOM. Nobody would care about me except my results also go into employee files and factor into bonuses and raises. Therefore I am much maligned, and hated with the heat of a 1000 suns.

I’m the loudmouth who boasts about how incredible his weekend was to everyone.

I’m the frau who hosts home parties to sell shit like candles and makeup and sex toys. You better come to my party or place an order.

I’m the HVAC. I’m always set 10 degrees too cold, no matter how many times people complain to the building management about me.

I’m the synchronized cooing that used to erupt whenever someone would bring their newly hatched offspring to the office.

Fortunately, COVID ended me.

When you're not running 10 degrees too warm, R94.

I’m the office manager. During each weekly team meeting, I recite our month-to-date revenue, expenses, and margin - down to the penny.

“So far this month we’ve had revenue of eighty-seven thousand three hundred and ninety-three dollars and twenty-one cents, and expenses of seventy-two thousand four hundred and thirteen dollars and sixty-eight cents, for a margin of fourteen thousand nine hundred and seventy-nine dollars and fifty-three cents.”

I’m the person who emails to tell you I just left you a voicemail. There’s a special place in hell just for me.

I’m the new global job leveling framework, or GJLF. I make no sense. But HR spent the last 2 years on me.

I'm the course everyone has to take now on what to do in the event of a lockdown due to a crazed shooter on the premises.

I'm as good a way as any to get out of an hour of work.

Even more than an hour, I can hear them thinking, if a shooter does show up.

I'm the phrase, "Close the door and sit down" that no one wants to hear.

I’m the big fat co-worker who spends 30 min after lunch shitting.

The co-worker outside my office that gets visibly upset when male employee's visit. She also informed me on Valentine's Day that she's glad she never receives flowers because they die.

I'm the guy in my 30s who loudly brays his hot takes on news of the day every chance he gets. I'm very impressed by my own wit and wisdom. It doesn't occur to me that everyone knows I'm quoting verbatim from some late-night host's monologue. Even though people call me on it occasionally ("yeah, loved Fallon's monologue last night!"), I'm not in the least abashed. My IQ is in the 75-80 range. That means genius, right?

I'm the boss' birthday card to which all of you feel compelled to add some pithy, obsequious signed note. I feast on your agony.

I’m the fifty-something woman who doesn’t suffer fools gladly. I think I am smashing. Everyone else thinks I’m a tactless witch.

I'm the executive who closes her office door, apparently to convey she's SUCH a hard worker she needs to totally concentrate on important stuff. We all know the bitch is in there on Pinterest and doing personal phone calls.

I'm the Reimbursement Form that you have to fill out to get back money you laid out for office-related expenditures.

I'm impossible to understand and no one, including the CEO, has ever filled me out correctly on a first try.

I'm the automatic lights that keep turning off since hardly anyone is in the office anymore.

I'm the fecal stench emanating from the morbidly obese middle aged fraus' desk chair.

I'm the IT department.

When the system goes down, I'm as much in the dark as everyone else, and it can take me a half day to get it up and running again.

Staff love it when that happens. They usually go around the corner to the local till the system is up and running again.

I'm the person who decides she MUST have a standing desk.

HR knows it must comply.

I'm direct deposit, the greatest boon of the digital and computer tech era. Without it, you lot would have to wait days for your salary cheques to clear so that you can pay the bills piling up on the kitchen table.

I'm the HR Benefits Administrator dealing with an employee who is upset because I refused his listing his Mistress on his Health Plan, beneath his wife's name. Also, I inform an employee his Health Plan does not cover penis enlargement surgery.

I'm The Grand Duchess Maria Vladimirovna Romanova, and I'm about to send out a passive-aggressive email about disappearing office supplies.

I am the unopened box of carbon paper circa 1972, shoved to the very back of the top shelf in the supplies closet.

I'm the cubefraus fawning over the gayling intern, Jaedyn, joking that he'd make such a good match for their [grand]daughter!

[quote] I'm the boss' birthday card

Oh, dear!

[quote] I'm the Reimbursement Form that you have to fill out to get back money you laid out for office-related expenditures.

And I’m the money that you may receive back within 6-8 pay cycles.

Sorry, but you’re a long time to process item.

I'm the mandatory 3 hour Christmas luncheon that is marked as unpaid time off. Enjoy the buffet and God Bless us, each and every one.

I’m the toilet stall you walk into before gagging to yourself and rushing away. I wasn’t flushed by the previous occupant (strangely enough it’s always the same asshole from IT). Im full of smooshy diarrhea and there are fresh pee puddles on my seat. But curiously there isn’t any used toilet paper in sight.

I'm the toilet curiously filled to the brim with toilet paper. There's toilet paper wrapped all around the seat. There doesn't seem to even be any poop, just yards of toilet paper.

I'm the BUNN coffee maker.

I'm ugly, expensive as hell and make mediocre coffee, but there seems to be a law about using me in 70% of American offices.

Enjoy your bitter, burnt, weak BUNN coffee.

I’m the earthen mug in the break room. I’ve been cradled so hard during the last round of layoffs you can see hairline cracks all over my surface.

I'm the HR memo reminding everyone the office protocols are still in place. I'm twice as long as needed due to the superfluous style of HR writing, but for your reading pleasure random words have been enhanced with bold, italic, and underlined effects. Sometimes all three simultaneously! Additionally, since I know you'll get tired of reading halfway through, paragraph six starts with "PLEASE NOTE:" to refocus your attention and the final paragraph begins with "As a reminder..."

PLEASE NOTE: Paragraphs beginning with "Unfortunately" deliver bad news with a deep sense of regret. My author knows you'll accept the bad news without complaint to avoid violating her deep sense of sorrow at bearing it.

Funny depressing thread. No wonder, Fight Club.

I’m r127 just here to say I have a feeling I’d love to work with some of you bitches.

We’d have a grand time!

I'm the restroom after certain people from certain cultures have used it. Filthy, disgusting PIGS.

I'm the good looking, well built guy who doesn't wear tee-shirts under my shirts, My areolas are dark and quarter-sized, and they are visible to everybody.

Some of the gay guys tell me how great I look. The rest of the office is offended. Like they've never seen male nipples before...

^ Suddenly feeling self-conscious about never wearing a T-shirt underneath. Ah to hell with it. Let my imposing pecs and glorious nipples fly free!

[quote] I’m the toilet stall you walk into before gagging to yourself and rushing away.

I will say that THIS is the single one benefit of having to wear a mask around the office.

I’m the monthly in-person meetings designed to get everyone used to returning to the office. After 12 pm, everyone flees since they can’t stand another minute.

That's the way it should be, R130. Be nipple proud!

Do guys who walk around shirtless have any thoughts about their nipples showing?

R133 - I can assure you those guys do not think about their nipples HALF as much as I do.