Meeting Boy
I was almost hit by a bus coming back from lunch. I can only imagine how my obituary would read: MeetingBoy, 33, hit by bus, leaves behind drawer of snacks and 163 unread emails.

I’d get a flu shot, but frankly the flu is better than most of my workdays.
The only flaw in my plan is if I get sick on Saturday.

How is it Friday at 4:30 and almost nothing got done all week? Oh, right, five days cleaning up a completely preventable crisis.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, though I’m sure some account guy promised the client it could be without asking the engineer.

A group of lions is called a “pride”, a group of crows is called a “murder”, and a group of PowerPoint slides is called a “lie”.

We’re in Day 7 of crisis over here and the account people still won’t admit that it was their decision to override the timeline and produce it in half the time and during Christmas that got us in this mess. I wonder what the record is?


The heat is broken in the conference room, leading to ice on the windows overnight. But I’m telling people that Hell has frozen over.
They work here too— they know.

The account director has perfect recall— she always remembers that she did her job perfectly, so the problem must be you!

I hate being in the conference room with the glass walls. The looks of pity from passing coworkers is very disheartening.

They say Mitt Romney managed to fit 3 lies into one sentence last night. I don’t know if that’s accurate, but if it is, it would be a remarkable feat.

I don’t know why the boss doesn’t like Romney, but now I’m thinking it might be jealousy.