My cubicle neighbor and I make a bet that the snooty, loud Millennial secretary two cubes down says “like” over 100 times in one workday. As in, “So, I was like ‘I’m not ready yet’ and she was like mad at me.” I take the over and proceed to clock 24 “like’s” in a five-minute conversation with one of her female coworkers about her trip to New York. And it’s only 9:30 in the morning, which already has me picking out the restaurant where I will collect my winnings in the way of a free lunch.

It is hard to believe that a native English speaker who is mildly intelligent and holds that ever-so-valuable American college degree is still stuck at a high schooler’s level of English. What is less difficult to believe is that she is answering a VP’s telephone line for a living. Another sad reflection of our declining culture and sinking educational standards.

It was another strong finish to the work week from the Raptor. I was inundated with emails criticizing my work for being incorrect or imperfect. I was under the impression that perfection was a concern for the divine, not for us mere mortals. If God turned in something to the Raptor, he would still find fault with it. My mood turns sour toward the end of the day and I just want out of this place and away from the pettiness and power trips.

 

This is a post in a series based on my time working at a Fortune 500 company. These posts are taken directly from a journal I decided to keep after witnessing numerous unbelievable and ridiculous incidents. All names have been changed to protect the privacy of the innocent―as well as the guilty. The head of my department is referred to as ‘Raptor,’ which was the nickname given to him by one of my coworkers. Last I checked, Raptor was still employed in the same role at this company.

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