Goddammit, if i get one more email at work from some farflung coworker, asking me to contribute to some cause, check out some dumbass cubicle humor, support some extracurricular bullshit, or buy a fucking candybar so help me God for their kid's fundraiser, I'm going to lay waste upon the landscape with a firestorm of ash and brimstone.
And don't even think about getting your nannystate biodegradeable panties in a twist about me voicing my opinions; I'm only equally invading your life as you have done mine. If you're going to hoist your pathetic personal life on thousands of people you don't know by clicking the 'Send' button on that network-wide email, you better be prepared from some honest reponses. That's fucking garbage email and I'm not going to accept the fact that you're allowed to fill my inbox with pleas to come check out the play you wrote or give to your local chapter of the Coalition to Save the Three Legged Lama's. Fucking post a flyer in the lounge, so that if I choose to ignore it, I don't have to expend the effort to delete it from my inbox. I don't have time for this shit at work, and if you do then maybe we should consolidate your position under an existing one; and you can pursue your frickin' beat poetry career with gusto, instead of sending out invites via my personal workspace.
Well, I happen to like Beat poetry. And he occasional email with pictures of boobies.
Notice I didn't take up an argument with the harmless sort of boobery that circulates among coworkers. A little boobage never hurt anyone. It may even be some type of bonding experience, but it's an understudied phenomena.
Dude, the answer to surviving in the corporate world is quite simple. Make an appointment with your regular doctor and tell him your under a great deal of stress at work.
An hour after the pharmacy drive-through you'll be suprised how much better you feel about these things.