(to the tune of Jingle Bells)
Dashing through the snow
To cubicle hell we go
Whining all the way
My coffee’s getting cold
My boss is always late
To the meetings she sets up
I want to leave to do my job
But everybody waits
Oh…
Jingle bells, snotgun shells,
Coming from my nose
Winter’s here, and as I feared,
I’ve got a real bad cold.
Jingle bells, snotgun shells
Spraying on your clothes
Now you’ll get sick, unless I’m thick
Cuz I won’t work from home!
Yup. I’m glad that’s not me anymore. Neener neener neener. Someone who knows me is going to read this and point out that I don’t drink coffee. It’s just literary license.
Merry Christmas.
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