Fuck. PGP.

Ctrl-C, Ctrl-V. PGP.

Motion to bring back “Dick’s Picks” to PGP because the undergrads on TFM do not know the saga of Dick Perry’s rise to fame and epic collapse. PGP.

“Late night, come home. Work sucks, I know.” PGP.

Dreaming about retirement three years into the workforce. PGP.

25% battery by 2pm. PGP.

The asshole/gentleman balance that worked in college just doesn’t work anymore. PGP.

Learning to check the left hand when conversing with a member of the opposite sex. PGP.

I test my desk at least once a day to see if I could actually flip it when I eventually rage quit this job. PGP.

How does one get into white collar crime? PGP.

Being surprised at how fast the day goes when you actually do work. PGP.

Explaining what you do for a living. PGP.

That deep breath you take every time you arrive to the office. PGP.

That moment of anxiety between logging into your bank account and waiting for the page to load. PGP.

I have literally zero control over how much I drink whenever I go out. PGP.

Coworkers acting like they’ve never seen a Catholic on Ash Wednesday. PGP.

Walking briskly through the office to create an illusion of being busy. PGP.

I give up. PGP.

Coming home to eat leftovers on your couch in your underwear and watch Netflix. PGP.

Sitting in your cubicle, questioning why you didn’t get piss ass drunk on more random Tuesdays in college. PGP.