Your Misery is Not Good Company.

An open letter to the cranky middle-aged weirdo in the office.

Dear CMAW,

I'm sorry you hate your job, your wife, your kids and (from listening to you bitching day in and day out) pretty much everything except fantasy baseball.
We work in a tiny office space so my headphones will not drown out your random yelling outbursts at the aforementioned job, wife, kids etc...
Your misery is now my misery.

Oh wait - actually I'm not sorry.

I need you to please become medicated, quit or find something else that will make you not here.

Oh and if I were you I would also consider tightening the fuck up.

xo -
Brenda

This time I mean it. Tighten Up Your Mouth.

Last year, I posted that I wanted the people in my tiny tiny tiny work space not to talk about babies. I'm amending this now.

I want them to stop talking all together because they have nothing to say.

HEY HEY HEY You ... guy ... you have said that "quip" eight times ... still not funny.
You - girl - you sound like the female equivalent of Animal from The Muppets when you talk. Thank god you do not have a drum set at work.

Notice how EVERYONE IS QUIET?! EVERYONE? You have secretly wanted to be cool and like everyone else your entire life ... Now's your chance!

You - other girl - if your cell phone has more than one ring - it has a vibrate function.
USE IT.

So. Angry. Tighten. Up.

Say thank-you: If a kid can do it, so can you.

I live near a donut shop called Spudnuts. To those of you who haven't experienced the heaven that is this potato-bread based confection, let me clear up any confusion right now: these donuts are amazing. Light and fluffy, balanced with just the right amount of dense chewiness. The glazed variety have a thin veneer of sugary crispness, and they're made fresh every day.

I walk by nearly every morning, my heart leaping out of my chest to have just one delicious bite, but for some reason, I always convince myself not to go. This morning, however, I decided I'd go crazy and buy some for my office.

I brought them in and everyone pounced appropriately. "Mmms" and "thank-yous" coated the work-day start with almost as much sweetness as the spudnuts themselves. All were content and happy, but one person still hadn't arrived, and one donut waited for him.

This coworker finally arrived, and as he was making his way out the side door to grab something for breakfast as he usually does, I stopped him:

"[Coworker]," I said, "there's a donut there for you."
"What kind is it?" he said.
"A glazed one from Spudnuts."
"Oh, umm, I can't just have only a glazed donut in my stomach in the morning. I have to go eat some protein or something first."

And thus he left to go buy breakfast.

Okay, valid point: we all know how the donut sugar-rush can crash even the best of us, but puh-lease. I realize tone doesn't come across so well in the printed word, but not only did he not thank me for the gesture, he rejected the offer condescendingly. As if he was appalled that anyone would consider having a donut with their coffee. And, uh, why did you ask what kind it was when you wouldn't have even eaten a donut in the first place??

To the rest of my office, thanks for being gracious. I would buy you more donuts in the future, without hesitation. To unnamed coworker, tighten-up, asshole. Learn to just say "thanks" when offered something, even if you don't want it.