The amount of anxiety that comes with deciding whether to sign your email off with “Best,”, “Best regards,”, or “Cheers,”. PGP.

My afternoon has consisted of Excel and the repetitive IRS hold music. PGP.

The thousand yard stare you blankly give your monitor while fantasizing about a rich and exotic lifestyle far removed from the mundane chore of the 9-5 work week. PGP.

Everyone in the office wants the city we’re in to land the Amazon HQ. I just want to get a beer after work. PGP.

Been here for a year. Done all there is to do. Mentally checked out while I apply for other jobs. PGP.

Not enough data to share, but too poor to leave the family cell phone plan. PGP.

Wishing you had a more ergonomic chair. PGP.

My coworker responds “roger that” in a group text with my boss. PGP.

Holding in jokes that would probably get you fired. PGP.

A girl in my office had “fell down the stairs and bruised her elbow” last week so she worked from home. Today, she “fell on the street and bruised her knee”, so now she’s working from home. PGP.