Chicago, IL-On Tuesday, a faceless and wholly beige employee with a productive cough was scene proudly riding the elevator down a single floor. The prospect of ten or so stairs proved too daunting for the person who spends the entirety of their day resting like cloth goiter from an outdated desk chair.
The rest of the elevator suffered in silence, a quiet rage settled in as the additional several seconds spent dropping the insect on his floor becomes an excruciating undertaking. Audible sighs were exchanged coupled with a ceremonial passive aggressive jamming of the close button in a futile attempt to humiliate the person enough into reconsidering their decision next time.
The employee remained predictably unaware, apparently having a me week, a me month, a me year. Gazing purposefully into a rousing game of bubble shooter. After the doors opened on their floor, the sick fuck looked almost surprised, as though they expected the elevator to somehow take longer, or drop him off in an unknown land. Uncertainty takes hold and more precious seconds dissolve as they grow inexplicably more confused.
Finally satisfied with the floor choice, the employee exited the elevator, to promptly become someone else’s burden.
Inspiring triumphs like slowly gating down a dozen concrete stairs certainly lie ahead for this person, just not today.
Rockford, IL-On Tuesday, a man staring longingly into the microwave during his allotted 25 minute lunchbreak, which was taken dutifully at his desk, began wondering whether or not he could fit his head into the microwave and if it would take more or less time to cook than his low-fat glazed turkey tenderloin Lean Cuisine.
Two minutes and thirty seconds was sufficient to reanimate the glacier like fragments of abused turkey meat, flanked by a first harvest vegetable medley, which was comparable in virility to the sagging face and balding head of the employee, but the presence of bones could provide difficulty for the decade old office microwave.
Just as the prospect began to seem feasible and, alarmingly enough, more pleasant than a return to his desk, the microwave rang…signifying that, the cardboard nutrition that would fuel him through another day of baseless meetings and vague incompetencies, was ready for consumption.
A man who admitted to sending emails marked with the “High Importance” exclamation point has now confirmed that he does everything in life ASAP, and all of it is more important than whatever you’re doing. Confusion around the existence of the “High Importance” outlook functionality has been on the rise, given that most people with jobs can determine the importance of an email without an orange exclamation point designation. This and the fact that if something actually was critical, it would likely warrant more than a passive aggressive email.
Nonetheless some people continue to flag every email they send with this exclamation, maintaining that every convoluted demand certainly belongs at the top of your inbox. This type of relentless urgency often bleeds into home life, as is the case with Peter Wicklow, Cloud Targeting Advanced Brand Automation salesman based in San Francisco.
“My entire life is ASAP,” says Wicklow furiously and inefficiently pecking away at his keyboard. “Everything can be done ASAP, if not ASAP than certainly EOB, and if not EOB than certainly EOD!” he continues with a nervous giggle. All other aspects in his life strictly adhere to this mantra of haste. Rarely spending more than 5 minutes on anything, giving him a perceived feeling of productivity though nothing is actually being accomplished.
The brevity of his rare sexual interactions with his wife are unprecedented.
“I learn most of my behavior from Celebrity Apprentice reruns,” he whines “Those are true luminaries, you think Omarosa got to where she is sending normal emails?! My initiatives shall prevail, or be prepared for a follow up FIRST thing in the morning.”
Meanwhile Wicklow’s marriage is failing and his emails continue to be promptly ignored.