So there's a poster that got put up at work yesterday, for the corporate "open door policy" about problems. At the top it says "Gotta problem? Resolve it".
I couldn't help myself.
I fought off the impulse for hours. Every time I walked into the kitchen, I giggled.
Eventually, I wrote two little words, just "Yo, I'll" on a piece of paper, and then taped that across the "re" in resolve".
Nobody got it that night. I kept waiting for somebody to drop some mad '90s white boy raps, but I waited in vain.
2 comments:
So no-one checked our your hook, while your D.J revolved it?? How sad... :-(
I was quite sad. Until I realized my coworkers were probably in one of two places in '91: a drug-induced haze, or a cradle. And then I felt pleasantly superior.
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