Post-Pandemic Awkwardness 2.0
“It Was a Greeting. Now I’m Regional Vice President of Something.”
Returning to in-person work for the first time in four years, Greg Stanton made the critical mistake of attempting physical contact with a coworker in what he believed was a socially normalized “welcome back” hug. Instead, he brushed elbows with Marjorie from HR in a motion eerily resembling an ancient gesture known only to senior executives–the mythical “Chevron Fold.”
“She froze,” Greg recalled. “Then she whispered, ‘It has begun,’ and everyone in the cubicle farm stood up at once.”
Office historians say Greg accidentally activated a long-dormant internal promotion rite believed to have originated in the late ’80s. What followed was a series of esoteric trials, including stapler jousting, water cooler diplomacy, and something called “Spreadsheet Ascension.”
“I was just trying to say hi,” Greg said. “Next thing I know, I’m in a blazer made of TPS reports and chanting budget codes in a circle.”
Witnesses confirm that Greg was handed a ceremonial lanyard and led to the sacred break room, where the Keurig hissed steam in approval. An elder intern emerged, carrying an unopened yogurt from 2019.
The final trial required Greg to endure a 45-minute meeting without muting himself or checking Slack. Upon completion, he was dubbed “Vice President of Legacy Systems & Snack Requisition.”
When reached for comment, Marjorie from HR simply said, “He has been chosen. He must now attend the quarterly fiscal bonfire.”
Greg no longer understands his job, but he has a key to a drawer no one can open and a corner office where the lights dim when he speaks.
Auf Wiedersehen, amigos.
