I wish my mom would come fix my office up. PGP.

Coveting every single vacation day like Sméagol coveted The Ring. PGP.

This looks good, but…what do you think you did wrong? PGP.

That coworker who walks in disheveled every morning and keeps imitating Beyonce by doing the hand motions and saying, “I woke up like this!” Yeah, we believe you. PGP.

Email chains are just grown up group text messages. PGP.

That feeling of panic after your second unsuccessful login attempt. PGP.

That coworker that visits every cube, every day, because they think they’re everybody’s friend. They aren’t. PGP.

The pen that will make test scribble lines but refuses to write words. PGP.

Getting phone calls from a totally oblivious coworker two cubes away that has no idea who you are. PGP.

Your coworkers submitting things you’ve said to PGP. PGP.

My girlfriend asked me if I had a preference on what she picked up from Yankee Candle. PGP.

If you delete the messages, it didn’t happen. PGP.