Post-Its in the Break Room


To whomever left the chocolates in here, the treats have obviously melted and then re-congealed. They are no good.


To whoever left the above note, I brought the chocolates in as a nice gesture. I can’t believe you would actually leave a passive-aggressive, unsigned note complaining about free chocolates. If you don’t like them, don’t eat them.

Signed, Emily.   Continue reading

Ode to igoogle’s Teahouse Theme

You torture me, teahouse fox. I sit at this desk, nine-to-five, five days a week (if I’m lucky: sometimes much longer), thinking, worrying, slaving and perspiring, and all in pursuit of what? Money? Success? Respect? The ever-elusive American dream?Maybe you’ve got the right idea, teahouse fox. Living your pastoral existence. Picking oranges, doing laundry, having tea on the dock in the evenings. That’s life, right there. You don’t care about money. You don’t care about fame. You don’t even seem to need the companionship of other foxes: fireflies, geese and caterpillars seem to give you all the company you need. You taunt me with your contentment. As I am madly reviewing accounts and formatting spreadsheets, you are rowing your boat around the pond. How Thoreau-ish of you.   Continue reading