I want to eat pie. Still.

When you see a coworker in the hall, you have to make a disparaging comment about your job. It’s like a drinking game, in that the rules are simple and it isn’t very fun. You have to say “I sure am glad it’s Friday,” or “Wish that weekend was longer,” or something on those lines.

Well, I got tired of it. Now when I see people in the hall, I say in an intense, serious tone which cannot be interpreted as anything but sincere, “God, this job is great; I love it here.” Then, as they’re passing me, I grab their arms and lean my face in real close and whisper, “Don’t ever leave. Or you’ll be sorry.”