Your coworkers telling you that they’ll “See you next year.” As they leave for the long weekend. PGP.

My boss didn’t take me seriously when I suggested mailing coasters to bars with our company logo on them. I work in advertising. PGP.

I still don’t know what the acronym in my company’s name stands for. PGP.

Understanding why Frank Ricard was excited for his big weekend trip to Home Depot and why he didn’t know if there would be enough time for Bed Bath & Beyond. PGP.

Feeling guilty every time Wikipedia prompts you to donate, knowing that without it you wouldn’t have a degree or job. PGP.

Making sure no one can see your computer screen from the hall. PGP.

Two years ago I was an eager college senior who couldn’t wait to graduate and take the world by storm. Today, I wish I could travel through time and punch that eager moron in the face. PGP.

Frantically turning the volume down when what you thought was just an ESPN article turns out to be a video. PGP.

A feeling of absolute rage and hollow sense of defeat upon being told about the mandatory 4:30 Friday meeting. PGP.

It’s a “fuck it, let the intern deal with it” kinda Friday. PGP.