It’s midday madness time in the office. Oil forming on the brows, fingers banging on keyboards with fury, and minds falling apart and someone singing the milkshake song out loud, someone grinding his or her teeth, someone with headphones plugged in in a desperate attempt to escape the madness. Our office reminds me of the Mad Hatter’s tea party with all of us taking turns being the Mad Hatter himself. If anyone overhears our conversations, they would have us sectioned off.

In the part year, I’ve accumulated what could be only considered as the paragon of “professional” talk we have had in the office and here are some snippets.

(Disclaimer: In the event that I become extremely successful as a writer, I can neither confirm or deny if these conversations take place for real and no one’s feelings were hurt by this.)

  • You shred your own shit next time. (An asinine response from me shredding the wrong papers from the wrong pile.)
  • Mimicking Burmese language when I answer my phone in Burmese (I once answered to my mum in Burmese that I was at the office and now both J and D can’t help but say Yone Mha Yone Mha ) and they also know some bad words in Burmese language (because I taught them- oops).
  • Do you have slaves shackled in your garden?
  • How do you not like spiders? You come from Burma.
  • Does butt crack refer to the space between two butt cheeks?
  • Who do you think you are? A black woman?
  • Lazy assholes.
  • We’re Americans. We have guns to solve our problems.
  • I used reusable period pads only.
  • You fool!!
  • You don’t eat food with black colour? I mean, girl, I’m surprised because know why…
  • Clotted cream is disgusting. We don’t eat that shit.
  • We’re going to move your desk outside of the office and near the cats.
  • Pole dancing should be an Olympic sport.
  • Snapping fingers loudly and singing the wrong lyrics to T Swift’s songs – also not me.
  • I swear xXx is an actual movie and nothing to do with porn.
  • Your job is to prevent her from climbing onto me.
  • Why are you like that?
  • Don’t eat the chocolate bars in the fridge- they’re for the students.
  • I swear to God…why don’t you concentrate and stop talking?

Last but not the least, today one of us said something about going back home to rub oneself in chocolate cake but one of us started yelling professionalism, professionalism at the top of their lungs. Ahh..I love my workplace. Sometimes.

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