Workplace Quotes Funny

My boyfriend's childhood sweetheart bound herself to a transfer system: everything she ate would be redirected straight into my stomach. She opened a streaming account and broadcast herself eating for twelve hours straight. She earned a fortune. Meanwhile, I collapsed with acute pancreatitis and was rushed to the hospital. When I explained the situation to my boyfriend, he only stared at me like I was insane. "How could something that absurd exist? If food could really be transferred, no one in the world would ever starve. You're just jealous that she's making money from streaming." After that, every time his childhood sweetheart went live, I ended up hospitalized again. I kept hovering between life and death. I sought medical help, but the doctors couldn't explain my condition. Some even wanted to commit me to a psychiatric ward. Then, one day, in order to outdo her rivals in a PK match, she devoured ten pounds of rice in a single sitting. At that very moment, my spleen and stomach ruptured, and I bled to death on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of her very first livestream. This time, I was prepared. I rushed out and bought twenty takeout meals. "This time," I said, "I'll eat first."

A post accusing me of feeding my employees free lunches worse than pig feed goes viral online. However, none of them know that the daily free lunches are all catered from a five-star hotel at 100 dollars per head. The entire internet goes crazy, calling me names and accusing me of being an evil boss. Even my co-founder, Dustin Jager, texts me and says, "Maybe we should go with what the employees want and change it to a meal allowance plan instead." I harden my heart and send out a company-wide announcement. "In response to everyone's pursuit of healthy eating and the right to choose their own lunches, the company has decided to discontinue the free lunch program. "A meal reimbursement plan will be introduced instead, effective immediately, with a daily limit of 20 dollars per person per day. All reimbursements will be calculated at the end of the month with the presentation of valid receipts." As soon as the announcement is made, the company's chat groups immediately go berserk.

My husband,Yves Gordon, got a diamond necklace at an auction. It was my birthday. The next day, I saw another woman wearing that necklace. She was Joyce Cherny, my husband's new sales director. That woman posted a dozen shorts on TikTok to show off her necklace. I commented, 'Nice necklace, but the outfit doesn't match.' Half an hour later, Yves called me. He berated, "I bought Joyce that necklace! She deserves it! She doesn't need you mocking her for it!"

I set up a company cafeteria for employees with an abundant meal daily worth 150 dollars per person. Meals are prepared by a world-renowned master chef. Every day, I only ask my employees to contribute a token of one dollar. Instead of gratitude, all I get is their envy of the neighboring company. "I wish we had that. Their healthy lunches cost them nothing, and the company covers everything." "Yeah. Free salads always seem to taste the best." Before long, this chatter spreads through the office, and the new hires carry it into the company's group chat. "Mr. Shaw, can we switch things up? All this rich, heavy food is just too much for us!" A few of the senior employees quickly jump in. "Yes, Mr. Shaw! We're not asking for anything extravagant. We only want something like the healthy lunches the other company gives out for free!" Perfect. They ignore my lavish 150-dollar meals that cost them almost nothing, yet they pine over the neighboring company's modest lunches. I scroll through the chat, feeling nothing but sharp irony. I immediately send a company-wide email. "Attention, everyone! By popular demand, and so you can all experience a truly free lunch, the cafeteria's daily meal is reduced from abundant to simple starting today. "Snacks and fruit options are discontinued and replaced with the same healthy lunch set offered by the neighboring company. The company will cover the full cost. Enjoy your meal!"

From a stall in the office restroom, I overhear someone badmouthing me. Henry Fielder, the intern I've been mentoring for three months, grumbles, "The guy's got zero people skills. He's a total fossil, like a robot stuck in one mode." I'm about to push the door open and jump in when someone laughs and piles on. "The paperwork is incomplete. The receipts aren't compliant. I can't reimburse it without a manager's signature. We could recite his canned empathy lines in our sleep!" Once they're gone, I quietly head back to my office. Later, Henry drops a thick stack of expense reports onto my desk. "Quit waving the rulebook and rejecting everyone's reimbursements." I skim the fake receipts, and for once, I don't call him out. Instead, I give a thin smile and say, "I have a headache. I can't make out the words."

In my third month of employment, I realized that my colleagues were calling me an old geezer behind my back. This nickname came from Wanda Stewart’s arrogant and ambitious assistant. I had hit the age of 32, but was still clinging onto the last vestiges of hope of marriage after eight long years of our relationship. I asked Wanda, “Do you know that your subordinates call me an old geezer?” She said without batting an eyelid, “That’s just the way Samuel is. He’s just a straight-talker and he’s just kidding. You’re already 32, are you seriously fussing about this?” She then chuckled, “You two are really alike.” My heart turned cold. Turns out that eight years of my youth were nothing but a joke to her. I turned to leave, resigning from my post and blocking her. Yet, the woman who was always so calm and cool started panicking. “Jansen Graham, please come back to me.”

The moms at the company post about me online, claiming the free daycare I provide for their kids is a "prison" and a vile tactic to force them to work overtime. What they don't know is that the daycare was set up with imported equipment and staffed by internationally trained professionals. It costs nearly eight thousand dollars a month per child to operate. The internet curses me out, calling me a show-off and disgusting capitalist. So I grit my teeth and send out a company-wide announcement. "To support everyone's desire to handle their own childcare, the company has decided to close the free daycare program. Effective immediately, it will be replaced with a childcare benefit. Eligible mothers will receive 200 dollars a month." As soon as the notice goes out, the moms panic. They crowd outside my office, begging me not to shut it down.

I help my students gain admission to top state art academies, yet my boss, Sebastian Emerson, withholds every cent of the pay I earned from 24 consecutive days of overtime. When I confront him in anger, he accuses me of stealing 120 thousand dollars in training fees from the students. "Honestly, being poor is no excuse for being shady. And having disabled parents doesn't give you the right to steal. "You've got two days to pay it back! Otherwise, I'll make sure you spend a few nights in jail, and I'll even inform your parents!" When a student calls, he snatches the phone and starts screaming, "There's no money! All your tuition went into buying your art supplies! If you've got a problem, go ahead and sue me, brat!" Meanwhile, Jayla Buckley, who is curled up in his arms, keeps placing order after order of Chaennal haute couture without the slightest hesitation. Watching the two of them colluding so shamelessly, I grip my attorney license in my pocket until my knuckles ache. Take it to court? Litigation? That's my arena. And I'll make sure both of them end up exactly where they belong—behind bars.

I was the company's top sales performer, but I never clocked in or out, and I rarely showed my face at the office. Two-thirds of the employees had never even met me. Yet somehow, I single-handedly dominated the sales numbers, outperforming everyone else and propelling us to the number one spot in the industry. Then came the day they handed out year-end bonuses. Jeffrey Young, the new sales director, fired me on the spot, claiming it was bad luck that I stepped into the building with my left foot first. When I demanded to know what gave him the right, he sneered at me with pure contempt. "Because I'm going to be the future owner of this company! You just got lucky landing a few big clients, and that was all thanks to the company's existing customer base anyway!" He continued, "Let me tell you something... Kieran Campbell, whoever the company gives resources to, becomes the top seller!" I could not help but laugh. All they saw was that I never clocked in, but they never saw me out there day and night, running around to maintain those client relationships. The truth was, in this industry, clients were loyal to me personally, not to the company's brand. I pulled out my phone and called my wife, Melanie Gardner. "When did you get yourself another husband behind my back?"

I was in the office bathroom stall when I heard them trash-talking me. The intern I'd trained for three months whined, "She's a heartless witch—like a robot with zero brain cells." I was about to swing the door open when another voice jumped in, laughing. "Documents incomplete." "Receipts don't match." "No signature? Denied." "Seriously, we've all memorized the freaking rulebot's script!" Once they were gone, I headed back to my desk. The intern stormed in and slammed a fat stack of reimbursement forms in front of me. "Don't go on another power trip and block everyone's claims." I skimmed the obviously fake receipts. Normally, I'd tear into her. But this time, I just smiled. "My head's killing me. Can't read the fine print."