“What the fuck are we supposed to be doing?” PGP.

The first word out of my mouth every day is “fuuuuuuck.” PGP.

Ending emails with a passive aggressive “please help me understand” after irrefutably supporting your case. I know I’m right, do you? PGP.

Sure working at Initech was soul-crushing, and Lumbergh was a douche, but at least they got Hawaiian shirt Fridays. PGP.

Batteries in my mouse died. Guess it’s time to go home. PGP.

Mastering the art of looking busy and maintaing zero productivity. PGP.

Turn down for heartburn. PGP.

My expensive tastes greatly outweigh my paycheck. PGP.

You can tell a lot about someone by how they handle a double-booked conference room. PGP.

I’ve done about 30 minutes of actual work this week, and I’m upset that I’ve even done that much. PGP.