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Posts Tagged ‘passive-aggressive’

*Sigh* Things that are wrong with this email:

  1. The person who sent it never picks up her print jobs and always prints in full color. She also tends to print things multiple times.
  2. Someone else sent a slightly less passive-aggressive email two weeks ago asking people to pick up their print jobs as they send them.
  3. Why am I CC’d when she is directly asking me to do something?
  4. This office has eight full-time staff members. Is this kind of thing really necessary?
  5. Exclamation points and smiley faces do not hide the fact that you are being a bitch for no apparent reason.
  6. This person will email me and ask me to work on a spreadsheet; when I go to do what she asked, I realize she took the time to email me to ask me to make formatting changes, not content changes. I think it took her more time to compose the email than it took me to copy-paste one sheet into another.

So maybe the last one isn’t relevant to the email, but you get the idea. Sometimes I feel like my fellow assistant-level slave and I are the only reasonable (not to mention computer literate) people in the office.


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DCist posted a link to Passiveaggressivenotes.com and it’s my new favorite internet time waster.

Oh, Sandra

This one is my favorite so far – Sandra starts out with a simple request for the dirty mens not to bring their stinky man poops into the scientifically proven (I actually agree with her on that point) cleaner ladies’ private lounge where ladies go to do their private business which is VERY VERY PRIVATE.

Emboldened by the first half of her note, it would seem, Sandra then takes the opportunity to vent about the last time there was a “potluck” and people did not “bring” enough food. The full post has some interesting background info about Casey in Human Resources.

Some of the notes remind me of last year when I lived with four students, three of whom were undergraduates. We had a white board on the refrigerator. Passive-aggressive notes abounded and I was not immune to the thrill of writing a semi-anonymous tirade.

Once when taking out the garbage, I sliced open my leg on a piece of broken glass some infantile moron had put in the bag (instead of, you know, taking it out immediately or wrapping it in paper or cardboard, like any normal person who knew anything about life might do). I left a note and a dry erase marker rendition of my bleeding calf.

Fortunately my current roommate and I do not leave notes; we’re passive-aggressive to each others faces.

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