Hey KFC

First time long time, wanted to share one of the most persistent and intense sources of anguish in my office life, which I just call the “FYI” email thread. Before I get into this let me just express how much I fucking hate being CC’d on emails that have nothing to do with me, and this happens to me ALL THE FUCKING TIME. It always starts out as something that Person A needs from Person B but feels like adding Persons C, D, F, R, J and myself for “our benefit”. However it quickly turns into a 1-on-1 conversation with follow-ups from Person B, additional comments from A, an “Oh gotcha!” email back from person B, and eventually ends with me sticking my open eyes under the Keurig coffee-maker.

Because of threads like these I about 70-100 emails a day, where roughly 5 of them require any action whatsoever from my end. Whenever I dare ask someone why the fuck they feel the need to CC me on everything, they always reply like the autobots they’ve become: “Just so you know what’s going on in case we need you to follow up with Person B!” They never need me to follow up with Person B. Person B doesn’t even know who I am.

But that’s all a luxurious Sunday blowie compared to the FYI email. The sender writes nothing but “FYI” in the body, referencing a 40-email long thread attached. It then becomes my job as cube monkey to sift through these things for clues and relevant info like I’m some kind of bureaucratic Sherlock Holmes. Whenever I get an FYI email I have to physically fight the urge to reply with an FYI emailreferencing 40 pictures of my ass and scrotum. FYI I hate you. Stop emailing me. I’d quit over this chicanery but I have no soul anymore. Hope this email serves as a reminder to you of how good you have it.

Carlos

Lets call a spade a spade – email is the worst thing to ever happen to the world of Cubicle Monkeys. Its the ultimate ball and chain. You’re always reachable. In the office. Out of the office. Weekdays, weekends. Morning, noon and night – you’re trapped in your virtual monkey cage. Getting CC’d and “looped in” all the fucking time. Can you imagine what life was like as a Cube Monkey before email started? What a fuckin walk in the park that would be. Nobody would ever know where you were. Nobody would ever really be able to figure out you’re a complete slacker. You’d have as little contact as possible with the people you hate.

But instead you have to sift through hundreds of pointless emails every single moment of your life. The worst part is theres only 2 types of emails – 1) Actual work emails that require you to do something, or 2) Complete and utter douchbaggery. I don’t know whats worse. On the one hand, real emails that require your action are a fucking disaster because it means you either fucked up or you’re being asked to do something you have no clue how to do. But the useless “Reply All” “FYI” “Just Looping You In” emails are the type of things that make you wanna burn the building to the ground. Its filled with all the people who have email signatures like “warm regards” or “thanks in advance” or “best.” They’re filled with Work Jokes – like when people send around the Van Damme Friday gif:

LOL bro! Its Van Damme Friday! Now get me the fuck off this email chain before I put your nose in your brain like its Bloodsport. They’re the emails sent at 10pm by the guy obsessed with Face Time at the office. Those always translate to “Just wanna let everyone know I’m still at work, so I’m providing a useless “status update” so I can send this email.” No matter what type of email you receive, its nothing more than an electronic reminder of everything you hate as a Cube Monkey.

But above all, the most aggravating part of work email, is a coworker asking you to be their Out of Office contact. “Hey do you mind if I put you as my out of office? I tied up most of my loose ends, you shouldn’t really hear from anyone.” Yea fucking right pal! You’re leaving at lunch on Thursday and taking Friday and Monday. I’m sure you’ll go 5 fucking days without anyone looking for you. For sure not. You’re basically asking me to do your job for you while you take a long weekend, and you’re asking me if I mind? Uhh, yea I fucking mind. I hate you.