Cubicle Chatter

An Open Letter To My Office Administrator: Martha

Oh Martha, oh Martha. Where do I even begin with you. For those of you who have yet to hear my rants, Martha is the middle-aged office administrator who resides in my cubicle at the daily nightmare I call employment. Referring to herself as the “Den Mother”, Martha is solely in charge of ordering supplies, snacks and basic needs for the office. Oh, the power Martha has as she sits behind her triple wide desk sorting through which paper plates are more economical friendly. You’re choosing paper f****ng plates Martha, not which wire to pull on a ticking bomb. “Do you think we need sporks for the office?” last time I check we are not KFC, so no Martha we don’t need sporks. Every office has a Martha.

Being Martha has a monopoly over what is ordered and what she Veto’s, I see first hand the dirty politics that go behind supplies being ordered. Like clock work, rushes of        co-worker brush by our cubicle daily, complimenting her perfume or asking about her son Timmy’s bowling team. Slowly but surely, I see their motives unwind as they ask “oh Martha, did you happen to order that sugar-free green tea?” You know damn well she did, Jeffrey, you manipulated snake.

Evidently, Martha is too busy buying everyone else’s plus ones, she had to tighten up on the less important shit, myself. Speaking of shit, one of those being toilet paper. For the love of god Martha, stop buying ¼ ply toilet paper. Do you have any idea the effects that this sand paper like material has on the human sphincter!? Comparable to using shards of a broken beer bottle.

Day in and day out, taking my countless work poops the pain increases with each and every wipe. I know you can hear me screaming Martha. As man heading to the wrong side of his 20’s, I thought my days of spitting on toilet paper in hopes to dilute excessive rectal bleeding was over. You proved me wrong. But little do you know, by going cheap on the TP, you’re actually loosing money Martha. Oh, ears all perked up now, huh Martha? All this excessive saliva I am producing to spit on TP? Yeah, that is making me parched. When I’m parched, I become dehydrated from my endless spitting, thus my thirst must be quenched. Why do you think we have been going through so many damn water bottles!? Open your eyes Martha! All this drinking, is making me drain the main vein, thus wasting more valuable company time in the bathroom. I don’t want to steal company time but this is what you have forced upon me Martha. Martha if you don’t start ordering Charmin Ultra TP I’m going to take your son, Timmy’s honor roll certificates you boast around the office and use them as toilet paper out of spite. My balls are in your court, you choose, Martha.

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Written by DGD

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