Last night, as I shoved a pet off me so I could recharge my laptop so I could work it to death again the next day, it dawned on me they need titles and badges. My pets do. If they’re gonna be my coworkers.
I mean, I have a title. I’m a senior copy editor. Back when I first got promoted to “senior,” I changed my work email signature to señor copy editor, and loved self el longo time-o. Then I had to actually start emailing people outside the office and changed it back like I was dignified.
Anyway, I made employee badges.
Even posthumously, Talu is in charge, and can still obtain toilet paper, as careful observers will note. If she were alive she’d never show up unless it was release-live-squirrels day at the office.
Edsel tirelessly monitors Global Gardens’ pee and pee holdings. He keeps his ear to the ground—and to the ceiling. Despite his lofty title, Eds is always willing to lend a paw to the kitten newcomers.
After a brief stint in outside sales, Lily finds inside sales a better fit. Lily’s desk is near the break room, and she’d like to emphasize she was not at all drunk when her badge photo was made.
“Dis not funnee.”
No one has any idea what he does here all day.
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