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Mondays can be tough. That’s why almost every other Monday from now until you die, I’ll be doing the Manic Monday Mailbag to keep us both entertained. You can submit your questions by clicking “Mailbag” on our submission form, or emailing mailbag@postgradproblems.com.
Q: My friends and I have this ongoing debate dating back to college. If you’re on a long road trip, ALONE, it’s perfectly okay to rub one out, right? Granted you’re not in Atlanta rush hour or anything similar. I’m talking open road, scarce traffic, cruise control. We’re not trying to endanger lives here, people.
—Cole
You think I’m going to give you the okay to tug on your meat while operating a motor vehicle? They give people the chair for texting and driving, so what do you think they’ll do to the chronic masturbator who can’t wait until he has arrived at his final destination to splooge on his steering wheel? Even if you’re not in rush hour traffic running the risk of being seen and labeled a sex offender, you’re still endangering your own life. I mean, what the hell is turning you on anyway? Fresh pavement? A particularly beautiful sunset? Get a hold of your sexual urges, freaks. The fact that you’ve been having this debate for years, meaning it has come up multiple times, is highly disturbing. If I see you on the road, I’m calling the police.
Q: How much money would it take for you to ride in a motorcycle sidecar for an entire year, rain or shine? And not one of those new fancy models either. I’m talking straight up Indiana Jones style.This includes your daily commute, recreational jaunts, errands, etc. and at least one long-distance road trip. Let’s assume that you would never have to wait on your driver. He is always ready at a moment’s notice.
—John R.
Zero dollars. It would take zero dollars. This sounds awesome. A free chauffeur (and designated driver) for an entire year? I’m about that life. I’d just purchase a ballin’ raincoat for rainy days. Also, I would rock this helmet.
Q: Which would you recommend on a Monday morning: Lug your ass in over two hours late because of “traffic” (lazy piece of shit overslept), or “call” (email so u don’t have to hear the shame) your boss and use up yet another sick day on a Monday for no reason.
—Nooner
Q: I recently was moved into my very own office, but not as a reward for hard work or a promotion. The previous occupant died (not in said office). My wife, who does not work in the same building, is not receptive to my requests to properly break in the new digs. How can I get her to help me realize this fantasy and put in some sexual overtime?
—Matt
Having sex in a deceased coworker’s former office is the ultimate corporate power move. That being said, I’d probably leave out the part about the dead person when attempting to coerce your wife into letting you grunt it out in there. She needs to see it as a naughty, slightly dangerous, deliciously arousing opportunity for love making that will keep your marriage exciting, even if you only see it as a dirty, raunchy, awesome way to hate your job and new office slightly less. She’s your wife, man. At this point, if you don’t know how to get her to do stuff like this, it’s going to be a long ride. Maybe cover your desk in rose petals, or something.
Q: I graduated two years ago and got offered a job straight out of school. I accepted, and I’m still with the same company. I shine at this company and love what I do. However, I cannot for the life of me seem to quit getting high. I just really like it and prefer it over alcohol, but I live in Texas so it’s not legal in any way. I cleaned up for my initial drug screening and passed with flying colors. At that moment, I thought, “Hell yeah, I’m clean. I’m gonna quit altogether.” Wrong. I was blazing again by the end of the week. I haven’t been drug tested since, so I’ve gotten to the point where I smoke before I go to work. I’ve actually found that when I don’t do this, I get less work done and hate half the people in my office with a passion. When I do, I’m level headed and much more tolerant of the stupidity I hear spewing out of the mouths of my coworkers. Is this, in your mind, acceptable behavior?
—Seth
You’re a functioning stoner that needs sticky-icky green to cope with how much he hates everyone he works with. I get that, and normally I’m not one to judge. But if you really have to get high to tolerate your job and coworkers, something has to change. Find a career that you don’t have to get blazed to enjoy. Smoking some weed on occasion to blow off steam as an adult is one thing, but being perpetually stoned out of your mind as an adult with a career is probably not considered acceptable by most people. In general, I’m of the opinion that being under the influence of any drug or substance for a large majority of your day is bad. After a while, you’re living in a chemical induced haze and start to lose touch with reality. If you need mind-altering substances to get you through life, then your life sucks and you need to change that shit.
Q: What’s the policy on playing golf with your boss? Do I take it to him on the course and post my usual round in the 70s, or should I dump to him and lose intentionally? I’ve played with him before with my dad and his son years ago in scrambles and Saturday afternoon rounds as a teenager (he obviously could beat me then).
—Michael
There’s a fine line to be walked here. Obviously you don’t want to blow him out of the water, because that’s just disrespectful and he could resent you for it. On the other hand, you don’t want to take an obvious dive and let him pound you, or you risk the same amount of resentment. There’s a middle ground to be found between these two strategies. Don’t whoop his ass, but don’t let him whoop yours either. Just play a relaxed, fundamentally sound round like you would with a group of buddies who aren’t very good, and let the cards fall where they may. The man has seen you play multiple times anyway, so he knows you’re not terrible.
Q: It has been about 6 months at my first job out of college, and I don’t have any real complaints. I mean, my job sucks dick but whose doesn’t? I’m not really friends with any coworkers, but for the most part we get along and have no problem working together. That all changed about two months ago when I met Anne. Simply put, Anne is the worst. For starters, she’s about 5’5″, 200 pounds, 50 years old, still single and smells like she showers once a week. She is also a huge bitch. Despite her having 30 years on me, we are more or less in equal positions at the firm. If anything I outrank her because of the department I’m in, but who gives a shit about that? She constantly acts like she is my boss, and always tells me to do shit, and does it in a really condescending way. I could list all the other specific examples of why she is the worst, but they don’t really matter. She has become my mortal enemy. Not just at the office, but in life as well. I already fuck with her when I can by doing things like walking over to where she sits when I have a rancid fart to squeak out, or eating her leftover Chinese food from the fridge. I want to do more, but I know there is a delicate line between what I can and can’t get away with in an office setting. I want to know how to make this woman suffer as much as possible without getting fired/committing a crime. Advice?
—Walt
You’ve got too much hate in your heart, Walt. Success is the best revenge. Stop cutting farts on this Anne, and just let her go about living her pathetic life while you dominate. Nothing will drive her crazier than seeing you rise to the top while she wallows in mediocrity. For the love of God, don’t murder her or do anything crazy. First you’re eating her leftovers from the fridge, and the next thing you know, you’re standing over her bloodied body holding a stapler while the entire office looks on in horror. Don’t let that happen.
I like the way you write.
Blowing your load in a McDonalds receipt as you pass a state trooper is a power move.
I’d like to see you pull off those type of evil shenanigans in a sidecar.
Punny.
I prefer the bag
Would you like extra dressing on your Big Mac?
“I AM THE ONE WHO KNOCKS.” — Walt, in a few years when he does finally get the courage to whack Anne
Or fuck her. Sounds like sexual tension to me…
“I’m talking open road, scarce traffic, cruise control.”
You can’t pull off at an exit ramp for 3 minutes? Jesus. That said, I’m pretty sure every truck driver is banging around inside a fleshlight while cracked out on NoDoz or meth.
3 minutes is all it takes?
If you’re distracted yeah, sometimes it can take that long.
Pends on whether there’s a good song playing. Karen Carpenter can coax a geriatric to finish in record time
You people are animals.