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Dear Mike,
When I started this job nine months ago, I could not have known the profound effect you would have on my life. You’re a quiet guy, introverted, and unassuming. We’re the only two people under 40 in the entire office. I had a brief flicker of hope that we could bond in our mutual single Millenial-ness, which was quickly quashed by the revelation that you have no interests outside of work, no ability to read social cues, and generally hate joy and happiness.
I could have dealt with these things, Mike. I could have suppressed my bubbly optimism, borne this with professionalism, kept my head down, and just done my job. However, some sick fuck designed an office where our cubicles are shoved together literally back to back. You notice every time I stroll in 10 minutes late, I can smell every Chipotle steak burrito you eat at precisely 11:00 a.m. every day, and you constantly bump my bullshit ergonomic rolly chair as you walk by.
Mike, while obnoxious, these offenses are not the reason I am filing this formal letter of complaint. No. I am filing this complaint because you have driven me to the bounds of insanity, far beyond what any normal officemate should be expected to endure. You’ve perfected your particular form of torture, which I suppose some may commend you for.
It could strike any day at any time without warning. It could be while I’m furiously gchatting, providing advice and support to a friend in a relationship crisis. It could be while I’m refreshing this very website to search for an article that will assuage my boredom. It could even be while I’m watching a particularly cute puppy video. Out of nowhere, you mumble a few words at full volume as if you’re addressing me, completely breaking my concentration.
“Wow, did you see…?” “…strategy adjusted immediately.” “Who is that?” “I wonder if…” “I guess it’s that time…”
The first few months you did this, I thought you were talking to me and used to turn around to respond to you. It turns out you don’t realize you’re doing it, so I stopped responding. However, when you ACTUALLY want to address me, you speak in exactly the same tapering manner, so I ignore you because I assume you’re talking to yourself. When you repeat the question, I turn around to find you staring and blinking at me and my computer screen through your Warby Parker glasses, making me look like a jackass because we both know I was reading a Bachelor recap and doing nothing work related at all.
I could deal with it if it only happened maybe once a day. But you’re too clever for that, aren’t you, Mike? You wait until I’m in the deepest throes of concentration on a quiz telling me which breakfast cereal I would be, then throw out a, “Can you believe…?” causing me to frantically minimize my browser window in case you’re turning around to talk to me. The next round of chatter could be in four hours or four minutes. I never know. The result of this Chinese water torture of inane commenting is that I am constantly stressed at every second I’m doing something non-work related (so like 80% of the day). This is not good for my health, Mike! I’m too young to be this stressed at a job that requires this little of me.
As a result of your continued offenses, assault on my sanity, and general breach of workplace etiquette, I am filing this formal letter of complaint to request that you cease and desist your narration activities. If you agree, we can go back to a happy and productive traditional coworker relationship where you pretend not to notice that we literally do not need someone to do my job, and I pretend not to notice that you disappear for a few hours of every day when we both know you don’t have meetings. I hope that we can reach a solution that is satisfactory for both parties.
(Luke)Warm Regards,
Your Cube Mate .
Respond
Quinn Truflais
Formerly known as Queen of The Garbage People. Functional title still stands. Dog owner, whiskey drinker, Star Wars fangirl. #DoingItForTheContent QuinnTruflais@gmail.com
@QuinnTruflais
Based on your previous posts and history of life decisions, maybe you should bang him.
I would have thought she already did
This is why she is so frustrated, he has passed on her advances and it’s driving her crazy.
True. Maybe he’s not a garbage person and actually a decent human being.
I would take Mike any day over some of the shit that happens in my office. Wouldn’t even be a top 10 offender. Wow the guy talks out loud? Get some headphones.
Madoff, thank god I’m work from home today, because that meme made me laugh way too hard.
Gotchu (as always) fam.
Aaaaaaaand 11 AM burrito. Right on schedule.
Does this guy eat a chipotle burrito for lunch every day? That’s gotta be costing him both time and miles on the treadmill.
Also, money. Chipotle ain’t cheap
Every. Day. The Chipotle is a half mile from our office, so he at least has to walk a mile round trip, but I wouldn’t say he’s particularly…svelte…
I have a real complaint about my old office mate. He did two terrible things: he typed on Gchat ALL DAY with the loudest typing I have ever heard and he made many many personal phone calls speaking Frenglish.
First, he typed so loudly. So loud that even with headphones and music on I could hear every keymash. And it was all day long. Always to his girlfriend. I can appreciate time wasting, but this was excessive.
Second, the personal calls to his family were very frequent and made me very uncomfortable. He was diagnosed with a brain tumor and called his family speaking lots of French, per usual, but when I heard “Cancer” and “Tumor” multiple times, I just walked out of the office, shut the door, and stay away for an hour. Obviously him getting this diagnosis is way worse than my inconvenience of leaving the office, but maybe there is a better place for these kinds of phone calls.
I sound like a garbage person myself with these complaints.
Yeah what an asshole for wanting to talk with loved ones when you got a bio bomb in your head.
Alright, I admit that was a bad example. My point was that this happened about lots of other things nearly every day and also that you have to be aware of your surrounds. I’ll take my laps. Sorry guys I’m not that much of a grasshole.
you should’ve just put in headphones
see note 1
He obviously don’t read too good.
what the toaster said. fuck.
I think you just have a problem with the French language.
False
Never trust someone who prefers an early lunch.
I mean if you take an early “working lunch” at your desk at 11am, once 12 hits everyone else leaves for lunch and you’re at the office alone at which point you parlay your “working” lunch hour into two hours.
As a transplant to Chicago from CT, I call this my “east coast lunch”. And yes, it’s 2 hours.
But if you’ve gone to Chipotle that makes it a little more difficult. I love eating my leftovers about 12:30 while still “working” then getting out of the office from 1:00 – 2:00. Easy 2.5 hr coast downhill after that.
So the real questions is – what kind of cereal are you?
I retook this quiz just for you, because that’s how busy I am today at work.
“You got: Lucky Charms. Lucky you! You have fans chasing you all the time. Everyone is after your *lucky charms* because you have both beauty and brains/marshmallows and grains. You’re obviously magically delicious!”
I look forward to all of the inappropriate overtly sexual responses I’m sure this will receive debating whether or not I have banged the Lucky Charms leprechaun.
Well did the Lucky Charms leprechaun talk to you at a bar? If so, we already know the answer
I’ve sat here trying to think of the best sexual response I could come up with by using the phrase(s) “lucky charms, fans chasing you all the time, and magically delicious” and I’ve got nothing. This snow is really screwing me up today.
I would have just asked whether your charms really are lucky? Or gone the slightly ruder route and said that much like lucky charms, everyone who chases you manages to get some, and you (the leprechaun) stumbles away afterwards.
After reading this, I’d probably rather share a cube with Mike than you.
Mike wouldn’t bang you, she would.