Til Desk Do Us Part

Letters between two co-workers

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How does it feel to be abandoned, Brad?

May 14th, 2012 by Grace · Letters to Grace

Oh hey there Brad,

Remember me? Your former deskmate? The one you used to spill your heart and farts out to? The Priscilla to your Mark but in looks only?

When you left me for sales, I joked that we would drift apart, that the space-time continuum would cease to exist. Had I known my prophetic words would ring true, I would have never encouraged you to take on a new position that would finally give you the business cards you desired so much to earn lady business. Now that you’ve closed a deal or two, you’ve acted like I’m not important enough to insult on a near-daily basis.

Without your constant putdowns, snide remarks about my personality and the glib jabs at my looks, not to mention your physical abuse, I’ve felt abandoned. To fill the void, I’ve been spending the lunch hour drinking alone at bars, telling bad jokes and demanding the drunk locals slap me in the face for being me. Some have taken me up on that, but never as gently as you.

Foolishly, I believed that if I gave you some space, you would come back to me. At work, you’re constantly telling people you can’t talk unless the conversation will result in ad dollars. As such, I made sure when I brought you lunch, I also delivered a lead. So many hours spent neglecting my own work so I could help you do yours. And what did I get? Not even one comment about being an oinker.

When I realized the only time we conversed was when I made the effort, I knew it was time for me to pull back. Did you even notice my absence? It’s been three weeks since I’ve written you, two weeks since you’ve written me without response, one week since you’ve looked at me. But it’ll still be two days til we say we’re sorry.

How does that make you feel, Bradley? Can you even feel anymore?

Kind Regrets,

Grace

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Grace Is About to Be a Woman – But When Exactly?

April 30th, 2012 by Brad · Letters to Grace

Dear Grace,

I know you’re hitting that time in life when you become a woman. As you’ve clarified to me many times, “I’m not a girl, not yet a woman.” Well now it’s time to own up, man woman up! You’re going to be over the hill which means you must take on the responsibilities that come with being a woman. None of which I am really aware of. I could hypothesize the following though.

I would say that taking a shot of tequila everytime you finish a simple task isn’t appropriate anymore. Also would venture a guess that snot rockets are frowned upon. Probably also want to abstain from mooning people and saying, “It’s a full moon out tonight ladies and gentlemen.” In other words, stop doing everything that you find great joy in doing. Most people would say that what you were doing as a late late twenty-ite wasn’t allowed, but because you were in your twenties, they let it slide. Now when you hit the BIG 3-0, you are forced to become a woman. I believe in you…kind of…probably not…good luck.

So as you continue to become less and less fertile, I wish you all the best in this upcoming birthday of yours. But when exactly will I be able to celebrate and belt out, “Feliz Cumpleanos” to you? Very few people know this date. Mama Grace, even though on a daily basis tries to strike the date from her mind. A college friend or two whom you drugged and tattooed your initials and birth date on. And that clown you emptied your savings account for with the promise that he would come and wish you a happy birthday every year from 18 on. He technically came once (that’s what she said), but that was only because you went to another kids birthday party (not creepy at all) to demand he wished you a happy birthday.

So if there is anyone who knows the date of Grace’s birthday, I beg of you to share it with me. Preferably on my Pinterest account. Think of me as the anti-Grace – lover of birthdays and social media. Help me celebrate her. Actually just help me make her uncomfortable. I know that got someones attention. In retribution for sharing, I promise you a Balance bar that I will get from my mother in a Care package soon.

Help me make Grace uncomfortable,
Brad

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My, you’re looking dapper

April 23rd, 2012 by Grace · Letters to Brad

Dear Bradley,

I can’t help but notice you’ve spruced yourself up quite a bit lately. Not only does it appear you’ve finally lost the last of your baby fat, but you’ve also really expanded your wardrobe beyond what your mom sends in your Balance bar care packages. Although I’m already able to predict which of your new shirts you’re going to wear on what day, I’m proud of you for taking the plunge into a more fashionable world.

I’m a little jealous that I don’t have anyone in my life to dress me up like a doll. Though that’s probably a good thing – knowing my luck my significant other stylist would probably present me with a non-refundable Chun-Li outfit. Yatta!

Anyway, beyond the clothing, can I just say I’m so glad you also decided to do something about your hair? I never wanted to say anything but your decision to keep your hair exactly like Mark Zuckerberg made you look like a nerd, but a much poorer one. Kudos to you for defying your doppelgänger and going for the Vanilla Ice circa 1990 look – them shaved lines look so fine. You are the epitome of hardcore preppy, and you should be commended for that.

Speaking of preppy – you now own your first pair of boat shoes which is quite a feat considering you never embraced short socks for fear of exposing your pale, red-haired ankles. Watching you walk around with shoes that don’t allow you to wear dad socks is pretty funny. Your gait has changed as you’ve become hyperaware that each step you take is causing a thin layer of sweat to build between your bunions and an unforgiving leather sole that absorbs nothing but bad odors. Your face reveals a mixture of a man who is confident he looks damn good and a man who is seriously concerned that everyone around him can smell his feet combined with a man-child who thinks the solution is to use a ton of Axe body spray.

Hearts and slugs,

Grace

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It’s Hot In Here so…GET OVER IT GRACE!

April 16th, 2012 by Brad · Letters to Grace

Dear Grace,

As the Spring is here (halleluyah) and the Summer is approaching at a torrent pace there are many things that I’m looking forward to enjoying.

In no particular order, Sundresses (both to wear myself and to enjoy others wearing), sweating profusely and dousing myself in random watering holes, drinking on rooftops with zinc oxide on (my mom is proud) and any activity that includes a mediocre guitar player jamming out to DMB’s iconic tune “Crash.”

The thing that I am however MOST looking forward to is your face entering the office after a stifling hot subway ride. Seeing the disdain and inner hatred you have for our perfectly functioning environment when it’s 100 degrees with 110% humidity is a delightful sight.

I recall vividly how you punted a poor dachshund ala Baxter in Anchorman last Summer just because you had the lightest moisture above your unibrow.

I find it a bit curious how you will gladly search out a public location to take a dump in front of countless people, but when it comes to sweating, unacceptable. Yes, I’m referring to that time when you broke up a Central Park softball game kneeled down and promptly “marked your territory” on home plate. Your claim that “He did it first,” while pointing aggressively at the Golden Retriever that was bounding away, doesn’t work. It never does. Stop trying to convince yourself that it does.

Ok, I will give it to you, New York humans the city overall doesn’t smell that great in the Summer when backsweat and swamp ass are aplenty. That coupled with New York City smelling like a mixture of used diapers, “Sex Panther” and Andre the Giant, doesn’t always make it the most ideal ecosystem. That being said, heat is lovely, sweating is normal, so Get over it Grace, just get over it!

I look forward to a strong 5 months of unbearable heat and countless rank jockstraps!

Good luck and godspeed,
Brad

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You should do something about your sticky fingers

April 5th, 2012 by Grace · Letters to Grace

Hey Brad,

I know you panicked when you saw this letter because you thought I was going to call you out for your questionably sticky fingers and hairy palms. But we’ll save that conversation for another day. A Bible will likely be involved.

All I have to say is, nice pen you have tucked behind your ear. Nice pen in your shirt pocket. Nice pen in your hand that you’re using to write menacing words to me right now. And nice collection of pens in your backpack that you’ll add to your bucket of office pens at home. You claim it’s because you’re forgetful but you’re the only one in this office who never has a pen handy because they’re all packed up and ready to go.

I know you’re thinking right now that your petty office theft is no big deal. But if you think about it, pens are the gateway product that you start lifting from work and soon it becomes a notebook, then a pad of post-its so you can leave passive-aggressive notes for your roommate, then a ream of paper so you can work on your origami skills. It’s just office supplies, no one’s going to get hurt, right?

That’s what you think. I remember when there was a torrential downpour and you snagged a coworker’s umbrella. Did you even think about what would happen when it came time for him to go outside? When you were without a winter coat and really wanted breakfast despite subzero temperatures, you grabbed a woman’s coat out of the closet and helped yourself to the crumpled dollar in the pocket. Next thing you know, you’re going to be moving onto stealing a laptop and claiming you left it in a cab. Oh wait.

I mean, some of the stuff you do is pretty commendable in bizarro world. Like when you filled up a mug with dish soap to take home, I knew that meant you were thinking about cleaning up your mess at home. That’s a good thing. When you walk out of the office with oddly built up “muscles” that could only mean toilet paper rolls hidden up your sleeve, that’s just pitiful. This is an office, Brad, not a free for all.

Thief,

Grace

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