Dear co-workers,

I hope you’re doing great.

I’m writing this email ’cause I happened to open the refrigerator looking for milk and found what must have been thirteen hundred cartons opened of the exact same thing.

Whoever is responsible for this, I’m sure they’re doing it for a higher purpose, like running a secret lab experiment for an Agro-Industrial company or developing a bio-chemical weapon to finally extinct the human race.

Whatever the reason is, though, I have to admit that I kinda prefer my milk liquid. I do not enjoy the sound of milk plopping into my coffee in jelly balls bigger than human testicles nor I find it enticing when that first spoonful of cereal in the morning tastes like vomit from two weeks ago.

For all these reasons, I’d be grateful if you could check for existing cartons in the fridge before you open new ones and ideally – but I know it might be asking too much – write the date in which you open one, ’cause beverages taste so much better when they’re not alive.

Have a wonderful day,

Dear Co-Workers,

I hope you’re doing great.

Today I would like to introduce all of you to one of the greatest, life-changing inventions of our time: the toilet brush.

This futuristic tool, born from the minds of the greatest interior designers, will help you in the complex task of wiping your excrements off the toilet surface once you’re done expelling them.

I understand this instrument is little-known to the many of you who have been in a coma for decades or grew up among the Aboriginal Australians, so I’m gonna give an extensive explanation of its scope and uses.

Unfortunately, poop spread over the white toilet surface doesn’t raise the same warm feelings of cupcake frosting or Nutella, nor does it qualify as contemporary art. The sad truth, my friends, is that poop is the last taboo of our century and modern society is not ready to fully acknowledge its existence.

I know you’re not lazy, disgusting human beings. I know the dirty toilets you leave behind are a well-thought act of social protest aimed at creating self-awareness and acceptance of the human nature, which accidentally also includes body fluids and poop.

Unfortunately, though, doing what Marina Abramovic would do isn’t always the best of advice.

Instead, try to think of the toilet brush as a magic wand. Like a modern Harry Potter, you can use it to evoke your Patronus and magically make feces disappear.

Or, if you really can’t do that, please find ways to avoid going to the toilet, like becoming a robot or a dead person. Given that fluo-yellow is not a healthy color for shit, I would say that the person who usually goes between 2 and 2.30 is on the right track to accomplish one of the two.

Have a wonderful day,

Dear co-workers,

I hope you’re doing great.

I’m writing this email to let you know that, according to my observations and analysis, the next pandemic disease to decimate the human kind will most likely originate between our office walls.

As much as I’d love the media attention and the catastrophic movie resulting from it (Helen Mirren would play my part – duh), I’m also not ready to die before visiting the Cabazon Dinosaurs and Young Earth Creationist Museum in Cabazon, California.

Sorry.

If you, like me, have a reason to live, please follow this list of instructions I’ve compiled with some love and a lot more disgust:

1) At the end of the day, return glasses to the kitchen. If you keep piling them up on your standing desks, in fact, we will run out and be forced to drink water from each other’s empty skulls.

2) If you drink stuff that is not totally liquid (like a shake or a smoothie), be sure to wash up your glass immediately after consumption. If you don’t, our dinnerware will become pullet-proof (Cool!) but we’ll also need a jackhammer to rinse it (Not cool!).  As a wise Native American once told me: “Smoothies shouldn’t come back to haunt you”.

3) Clean your keyboard regularly if you don’t want to give your employer enough DNA material (in form of hair and chewed fingernails) to clone you and run very illegal experiments.

4) If your desk smells like every smell, clean it. This will save you the trouble of eradicating that annoying Ebola virus popping up on a Friday afternoon.

5) Get rid of empties: As much as I’d like to believe you, I’m pretty sure that empty Club Mate bottles will NOT be the currency of the future.

6) Trash empty Amazon boxes: you won’t use them to pack Christmas presents for your friends and even if you do, you do not have seventy-nine friends.

Have a wonderful day,

Dear co-workers,

I hope you’re doing great.

I’d like to bring to your attention a conundrum that is keeping me awake at night, much like the first season of Serial or the smoke monster in Lost used to do.

The pickle jar I put in our fridge on Monday morning is getting mysteriously emptier every day and I know for sure I haven’t eaten 23 pickles all by myself.

The police has already ruled out the following scenarios:

1) Gang of mischievous thugs on a pickle diet breaking in in the middle of the night
2) Space-time portal opened in the fridge
3) The Rapture

Unfortunately, this leaves us with the sad, predictable conclusion that one of you is eating my PERFECTLY LABELED food without asking, which is disrespectful, uncalled for and beyond childish.

Since this is an office and not a hippy commune in 1974, I am assuming everyone is familiar with the concept of property. I have never touched your smelly cheese (even when it’d been in the fridge long enough to become a sentient being and attack me) nor I’ve ever sipped one of your precious vitamin shakes without permission.

If you want a pickle, ask. I believe that’s what caring, responsible adults are supposed to do.

Have a wonderful day,

Dear co-workers,

Guess what? – The stars aligned once again and just when I went to refill my mug, the coffee pot was empty.

Like it happened in old times, before modern civilization took place and social norms started blossoming, the person who poured themselves the last cup didn’t care enough to make fresh coffee for everybody else.

I know you probably find this ironic (like rain on your wedding rain or a free ride when you’ve already paid) but I’m not laughing.

I’m writing this email because, contrary to popular belief, I have never decided I’d devote my entire existence to making coffee for a group of selfish grownups.  Gandhi once said “be the change you want to see in the world” and this morning I’m really really dying to see your asses kicked.

I’m going to write this in bold: If you finish the coffee, please make fresh one.

And in case you’re wondering: the last drop of coffee inside the machine does NOT count as an Italian espresso and you’re still required to make more.

Have a wonderful day,

Dear co-workers,

I have a confession to make.

All throughout my life, I’ve always envied sporty people. Ever since I decided Sporty Spice was my favourite of them all, I’ve dreamt of backflipping on tables at fancy dinner parties and impress people with my athleticism.

Unfortunately, life had other plans for me. Thanks to an unbroken record of unfinished marathons and the recurring feeling of dying at the gym, I slowly turned into a person who rejects physical activity. Even though I’ve hidden my aversion behind trendy yoga classes, analog stairs are my kryptonite and I secretly hope home office becomes a thing so I won’t have to move for the rest of my life.

Nevertheless I admire, support and applaud YOU, who managed to integrate physical activity into your daily lives. Y’all are the person I would like to be and – let’s be honest – you will all survive me even though you practice dangerous, frightening activities like rock climbing or snow boarding.

There is one thing, though, that we need to discuss.

Sometimes you arrive in the morning after biking for 15 kilometers or running while simultaneously pushing your daughter’s stroller. Still sweating from the admirable effort (but not quite as much as I do when carrying groceries up the stairs), you enter the room while posting your progress on Runtastic and dispensing smiles full of positivity and endorphins.

You then ask – very rhetorically – “Isn’t it SO hot in here?”, walk towards the windows and open them one by one, letting in the winds that soon enough will turn our peaceful office life into the tornado episode of a 90s TV series.

So, to answer your question:

– NO, it is NOT hot in here, which is probably why everyone is wearing thick winter jumpers instead of shorts and bikinis.
– NO, we’ve never wondered how it feels to complete the Ice Bucket Challenge
– NO, the air does not need to be changed. We’d all rather breathe old air than die of hypothermia.
– NO, the wind in our hair doesn’t make us feel like we’re in a music video of Ariana Grande as much as in Russia during the winter invasion of 1941
– NO, it’s not easy to make pivot tables in Excel if you can’t feel your fingers anymore.

So, the next time the room feels very very hot, please check the temperature on the thermometer your Fit Bit is equipped with, and if it doesn’t go above the fusion point of human organs, consider that it might just be your impression.

Have a wonderful day,