PSA

(Public Service Announcement OR Personal Sanity Appeal)

Dearest coworkers,

I appreciate all the hard work you put into your jobs.* I appreciate the fact that you smile and say hello to me,** even though the vast majority of you cannot remember my name. I really don't mind having an office (or, rather, a cubicle in a quarter of an office that actually used to be a storage closet that had a dirt floor a mere decade ago) in the basement -- its location allows me to effectively avoid my psycho hosebeast boss for most of the day. However, I would appreciate it tremendously if all of you could remember that my office is in close proximity of the kitchen. Please refrain from microwaving anything that could possibly be construed as smelling foul. Your leftover fishshit casserole may taste good to you, but it smells like death, and that scent is going to linger in my office for the rest of the day.

Warmest regards,
Killy

Addendum: I make a solemn vow that I will personally drop trou and shit on the desk of the next person who burns popcorn in the kitchen. Seriously. The acrid stench of blackened Pop Secret will pervade the basement for the better part of a week. And don't try to cover up the smell with the cheap-ass Lysol rip-off disinfectant spray from the bathroom. That makes it worse. Much, much worse.

*Note heavy sarcasm.
**Except for those of you who smile and say hello and then gossip about me as soon as I leave the room. I don't appreciate that. You know who you are.