There are seven Mikes in our office. PGP.

I’m too scared to leave the office because the CEO and CFO are having a conversation by my car. PGP.

Making eye contact through that gap in the stall door. PGP.

Only filling up the gas tank halfway in the hope that prices will fall two cents overnight. PGP.

Until recently, I thought Ariana Grande was a font in Microsoft Office. PGP.

I fucking love my Honda Accord. PGP.

Netflix autopay just overdrafted my checking account. PGP.

I test my desk at least once a day to see if I could actually flip it when I eventually rage quit this job. PGP.

My company put me in charge of ordering new business cards for everyone. Say hello to your new Executive Vice President of Marketing Coordination. PGPM.

Please. Stop. Talking. PGP.