To whom it may concern: the office edition

Dear random coworker: We have this thing called a dress code at work. Yes, I disagree with many parts of it as much as you do. Especially the no-jeans part of it, because I know that you can dress jeans up and look AMAZING. But I digress. We have this dress code. I don’t understand why pants that are really just modified, dressed up sweat pants would be appropriate. Because they aren’t. If I can’t wear jeans; you can’t wear those. I’m just saying. Avid fan of Clinton and Stacy, Mandy

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Dear fellow commuter lady, I can see that your SUV is bigger than my Jetta. I can see that you are in the lane I need to be in. Can you see that my blinker is on and I mean to get over? OK, you can. Then why—for the love of all that’s holy, why?—do you see fit to drive at a speed that keeps you right there, even with my back tires and ensures that I cannot get over? I wasn’t joking with the blinker. I wasn’t trying to mess with your head on a Monday drive to work. I just wanted/needed in that lane. And you had to go all stupid and refuse to acknowledge my presence and drive that constant speed that makes it impossible for me to get in the dang lane. So I’m sorry I had to speed up and nearly cut you off. You’re lucky I didn’t give you “THE GLARE.” Fighting back road rage day-by-day, Mandy

P.S.: Tell your friend Talks to Passenger While Driving But Has to Look Her in the Eye, So Drives All Over the Lane and Not at the Speed of Traffic to reconsider taking Harding Road on her way to work. She just makes me mad.

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Dear other department that recently moved to my floor of the building, You all seem very nice. I appreciate that since your new director arrived, you’ve been relatively quiet. Thank you. But because of the placement of my office in proximity to your director, I feel more like a part of your department than mine. Because I’m continually having to tell people up here looking for your offices where they are. So, please, when you invite someone up, give them specific directions about how to find your office. Because I’m tired of giving them myself. 😉 Enjoying the silence, Countess Mandy, the Editor

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Dear Powers that Be, The whole one-copy-machine-per-floor thing is dumb. I know you got a deal on these copiers. But they stink. I spent I don’t know how long performing emergency surgery on it the other day when it insisted there was a paper jam. And this thing jams all the time. I’m not sure you’re actually saving money when the piece of crap will die faster, do less work, and may or may not die in an unfortunate Office-Space-like moment involving me, a field, and a baseball bat. It is that bad, an employee