Dear Unidentified Co-Worker #1,
When someone asks you "How are you doing?" as you're passing each other in the hallway, the appropriate response is a quick "Fine"/"Good"/"Fair to middling" (depending on your mood) followed up with "How 'bout you?" which in turn generates an equally brief response. It is NOT the time to go into extensive detail about your health/relationship woes/emotional well-being. I'm usually dashing down the hallway to get to the restroom, and you and your talk are holding me back, and that does not make me happy, to say the least. While I want you to be okay (and I really do), I don't care to hear about Every. Single. Thing. that is wrong with you. So, yeah, cut that shit out. Thanks.
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Dear Unidentified Co-Worker #2,
You're a perfectly nice person, but you really really REALLY need to understand the definition of personal space and, above all, how to respect it. I dread seeing you come by my desk because I know that not only are you going to stop and talk to me, you are going to stand less than five inches away from me and be all up in my face. I CANNOT STAND THAT. It gives me the creeps and makes me want to punch you in the throat because you are essentially "trapping" me in with your body and I HAVE NOWHERE ELSE TO GO. Stop trying to create some false sense of friendship and/or intimacy with the whole standing-too-close thing, okay? Stop being my personal space invader. Thanks.
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Dear Unidentified Co-Worker #3,
I appreciate a good shoulder rub as much as the next person, but I get way creeped out whenever I see you adminstering them to various and sundry co-workers during the day. We're at WORK, for pete's sake, and unless our office has turned into some massage therapy school (which it has not), I don't think it's appropriate behavior. I know you don't mean anything untoward and that you are just being nice, but still, STAY AWAY FROM ME. First and foremost, you don't know me well enough to have your hands on me like that. Second, you are in my personal space without my permission, which, again, I HATE. If I want a massage I'm going to go to my favorite place and not worry that my boss is going to walk by and see what's going on. Thanks.
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Dear Unidentified Co-Worker #4,
I don't know who you are, but QUIT STEALING MY LUNCH. I'm serious. Do I have to be all Leigh Botts in Dear Mr. Henshaw about it and install an alarm on my lunch bag? I do not have to resort to such measures, do I? I hope not. You will rue the day I learn of your identity.
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