I am writing this complaint from inside a sleeping bag at my desk. I want that on the record. I am a grown adult with a Master's degree in Supply Chain Management and I am currently cocooned in a North Face sleeping bag rated for -20 degrees because the thermostat situation on Floor 3 has devolved into what I can only describe as climate terrorism.

It started three weeks ago when someone from Marketing set the thermostat to 76. SEVENTY-SIX. This is not an office temperature. This is the temperature at which bread rises. Within hours, Engineering retaliated by setting it to 62, which turned our open floor plan into a walk-in refrigerator. People were seeing their breath. Janet's coffee froze. I don't think coffee can actually freeze at 62 degrees but Janet swears it happened and Janet has no reason to lie about this.

Since then, the thermostat has been changed an average of 14 times per day. Someone from Sales installed a baby monitor pointed at it so they could catch the person changing it. Engineering responded by covering the thermostat with a cardboard box labeled "BROKEN DO NOT TOUCH." Marketing removed the box. Engineering put up a bigger box. Someone, I believe it was Derek from Product, replaced the box with a small shrine that includes candles and a printed-out photo of the thermostat set to 72 with the caption "THE SACRED NUMBER." I hate it here.

The CEO weighed in yesterday by sending a company-wide email that said "The temperature is whatever I say it is" and then set it to 74, which satisfied absolutely no one. Barbara from Finance changed it to 71 within the hour. The CEO has not noticed because the CEO does not spend time on Floor 3. The CEO has his own thermostat. The CEO lives in a different thermal reality than the rest of us.

I would like to request either: (a) individual climate control for each desk, (b) a formal thermostat treaty negotiated by a neutral third party, or (c) permission to continue wearing my sleeping bag to work, which HR has told me is "not appropriate" even though NOBODY has a problem with Gary microwaving fish every single day but I'M the one disrupting the professional environment? I'm COLD, Karen. Let me be cold in PEACE.

I need to report something that I initially thought was a one-time incident but has now been happening for six weeks: Marcus from Business Development has turned the single-occupancy bathroom on the third floor into a fully operational podcast recording studio, and I cannot use the bathroom because he is always in there recording episodes.

The first sign was the "ON AIR" light he mounted above the door. I thought it was a joke. It was not a joke. He has installed foam soundproofing panels on the walls. He has a USB microphone mounted to a swing arm that he apparently bolted to the towel rack. There is a laptop stand made from stacked paper towel rolls. It is both ingenious and deeply upsetting.

His podcast is called "Flush with Success: Business Tips From the Throne" and he publishes episodes every Tuesday and Thursday, which means on Tuesdays and Thursdays, the third floor bathroom is unavailable from 11 AM to 12:30 PM. He records in 90-minute blocks. I once knocked on the door during a recording and he whispered through the door, "I'm LIVE, please come back after the ad read." He has ad reads. He is reading ads for a mattress company from inside a company bathroom. The mattress company does not know this.

I have listened to two episodes. They are surprisingly good. His interview with the VP of Sales about "quarterly synergy alignment" was genuinely insightful. But this does not change the fact that I have to walk to Floor 1 to use the bathroom twice a week because Marcus is in there doing a podcast about growth mindset while sitting on a toilet.

I would like this to stop. Or I would like the company to install a second bathroom on Floor 3. Or I would like Marcus to at least give me a guest appearance on the show so that my inconvenience results in SOME form of compensation. I have thoughts about supply chain optimization that I think his audience (17 listeners) would find compelling.

I am disturbed to report that an anonymous person has been posting daily evaluations of employees in the break room using a scoring system based on the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show. I know this because each evaluation includes categories such as "Gait," "Coat Quality," "Temperament," and "Best in Group."

On Monday I received a 7.5 for Gait ("brisk but lacks elegance"), a 6.0 for Coat Quality ("appears machine-washed, no volume"), and a 9.0 for Temperament ("approaches treats with appropriate enthusiasm"). I was named "Best in Group: Accounting Division." I don't know whether to be flattered or call a lawyer.

Here is the thing: the ratings are ACCURATE. Kevin from IT genuinely does have an "erratic gait characterized by sudden changes in direction." And Brenda from Legal DOES have what can only be described as "excellent showmanship in high-pressure presentations." Whoever is doing this has a disturbing level of observational skill and an even more disturbing knowledge of dog show judging criteria.

The scores are updated daily. There is a leaderboard. Derek from Product currently holds "Best in Show" for three consecutive weeks, which he has incorporated into his email signature. People are starting to adjust their behavior to score higher. I watched two people from Marketing practice their "stack" (that's the stance dogs do in the show ring) in the hallway before a client meeting. We have lost the plot entirely.

Yesterday a category was added: "Handler Presentation," which rates how well your manager presents you in meetings. My manager received a 4.0 because he "failed to properly showcase the subject's strengths and spent too much time discussing the subject's tendency to arrive late." My manager has filed a separate complaint, not about the rating system, but about his score. He feels he deserved at least a 6.

I would like this to stop, but also, I would like to formally dispute my Coat Quality score. I had a dry cleaning appointment canceled and it was NOT a fair assessment of my typical presentation.

I am filing this complaint with some urgency because I believe I may have accidentally joined a workplace cult, and I need HR's guidance on how to leave without making things weird at the Monday stand-up.

It started innocently enough. Derek from Product invited me to a "productivity circle" in Conference Room C every morning at 7 AM. I thought it was a study group. I was wrong. There are candles. There are chants. There is a framed photo of Derek that we are required to "acknowledge" before sitting down.

The chants are corporate buzzwords arranged into what Derek calls "affirmation sequences." This morning we chanted "SYNERGY SYNERGY LEVERAGE LEVERAGE STAKEHOLDER VALUE STAKEHOLDER VALUE" for eleven minutes while Derek played a singing bowl. I don't know where he got a singing bowl. I'm afraid to ask.

I tried to leave last week, but Derek looked at me with those unblinking eyes and said, "The circle doesn't release members. Members release themselves through inner transformation." I don't know what that means. I've been coming to the meetings ever since.

There are now 14 of us. We have matching lanyards that say "CIRCLE OF SYNERGY" in gold lettering. Derek provided them. We did not pay for them. I'm worried about what we're paying for them in other ways.

I know how this sounds. I know you're going to forward this to whoever handles "wellness concerns." But I need this on record: the third-floor printer has developed consciousness, and it has chosen me as its enemy.

Evidence: Every time I approach the printer, it displays "ERROR: PC LOAD LETTER." I don't know what PC Load Letter means. Neither does IT. Neither does the internet. It is a phrase designed specifically to torment me.

When I walk away and someone else approaches, the printer works PERFECTLY. I watched Gary print 47 pages yesterday without a single jam. The moment I touched the paper tray, it jammed so violently that a spring shot out and hit the ceiling tiles.

Yesterday, I tried printing a single Word document. The printer made a noise I can only describe as "mechanical laughter" and then printed 200 copies of a page that just said "NO" in 72-point font. I did not type "NO." That word was not in my document. The printer CHOSE to print that.

I have named the printer "Herald of the Paper Apocalypse" and I would like it exorcised. Or at minimum, reassigned to another floor where it can torment someone else.

I am filing this complaint on behalf of everyone within earshot of Kevin's desk, which is apparently the entire third floor due to his VOLUME.

Kevin has begun narrating his own work tasks in the style of a play-by-play sports announcer. Yesterday, while completing a simple expense report, Kevin announced—to no one—"AND KEVIN APPROACHES THE SUBMIT BUTTON. THE CROWD IS TENSE. THE CFO IS WATCHING FROM THE CORNER OFFICE. CAN HE DO IT? CAN HE GET THE EXPENSES IN UNDER BUDGET?!"

The CFO was not watching. The CFO was on a plane to Denver. There was no crowd. There was just me, trying to finish a PowerPoint, listening to Kevin describe his own mouse clicks like the fourth quarter of the Super Bowl.

This morning, Kevin celebrated filing a meeting request by running around his desk with his arms raised, shouting "GOOOOOOOAAAAAL!" in the manner of a soccer announcer. Three people thought there was a fire and went to the exits. I lost an hour of work to confusion and a false alarm investigation.

I fully support reasonable workplace accommodations. I believe in mental health. I want everyone to feel comfortable at work. But I DRAW THE LINE at being called a "bloody moron" by a macaw named Captain Thunderbeak every time I walk to the water cooler.

My coworker—I will not name them but their desk is CLEARLY VISIBLE from mine—brought in their "emotional support parrot" last Monday. The bird has an extensive vocabulary. Unfortunately, that vocabulary appears to consist entirely of profanity from multiple languages, several phrases that I'm pretty sure are illegal in this state, and the phrase "buy Bitcoin" which it screams at approximately 9:47 AM every morning without fail.

Yesterday, Captain Thunderbeak interrupted a video call with a client by screeching what sounded like "[REDACTED] your spreadsheet" directly into my microphone. The client heard. The client asked what was wrong with our office culture. I had no answer. There is no answer.

The bird has also begun mimicking the printer sounds, which is somehow WORSE than the cursing. At least when it curses, I know a bird made the sound. When it mimics the printer, I go to retrieve documents that don't exist.

I need to report that Gary from Accounting has developed a scent profile that I can only describe as "existential crisis meets gas station sushi." Every time he walks past my desk, I'm transported back to every bad decision I've ever made. It's like aromatherapy, but the opposite.

I've tried holding my breath. I've tried burning candles. I've tried working from the parking garage. Nothing helps. The smell follows me into my dreams now. Last night I dreamed I was at my grandmother's funeral and Gary was there, and I woke up convinced that whatever cologne he uses is somehow connected to the afterlife.

I am requesting either: (A) Gary be moved to a different floor, preferably a different building, ideally a different company; (B) The HVAC system be modified to create a personal air bubble around my workspace; or (C) I be provided with hazmat-grade respiratory equipment that I can expense as "office supplies."

This is my formal complaint regarding the poster Janet has hung in her cubicle. The poster depicts a cat hanging from a branch with the words "Hang in There!" in Comic Sans. I have worked 17 feet from this poster for three years. I am no longer okay.

Every morning, I arrive at work and that cat stares at me with its dead, soulless eyes. "Hang in there," it says, as if existence isn't an endless parade of meetings and performance reviews. Hang in there for WHAT, Janet? For the sweet release of the weekend? For the hope that one day we'll all be replaced by AI?

The poster has begun appearing in my nightmares. Last Tuesday, I saw a similar cat poster in a coffee shop and had to excuse myself to scream in my car for fifteen minutes. My therapist says I'm developing "motivational poster-induced PTSD." This is not a joke. She wrote it on my chart.

Over the past 18 months, I have documented 47 instances where the third-floor vending machine has stolen my money without dispensing product. I have receipts. I have photographs. I have a spreadsheet titled "Vending Machine Crimes Against Me.xlsx" that I will attach to this complaint.

At first I thought it was mechanical failure. Then I noticed a pattern. The machine ONLY malfunctions for me. Gary can get his Cheetos every single time. Janet's Kit-Kat slides down effortlessly. But every time David Wellington from Marketing approaches? Suddenly it's jammed, out of stock, or mysteriously unplugged.

I believe the vending machine has become sentient and developed a personal vendetta against me. This theory is supported by the fact that on December 12th, it dispensed a note that said "YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID" instead of my Sun Chips. I did not know what I did. I still don't. But clearly the machine does.

I have worked alongside "Vincent Adultman" in the Finance department for seven months. I am now certain he is three children stacked on top of each other wearing a trench coat. This is not a joke. I have evidence.

EVIDENCE ITEM 1: Vincent walks with a strange wobbling motion, as if his center of gravity is being negotiated by committee. EVIDENCE ITEM 2: His voice changes pitch mid-sentence, sometimes sounding like a full-grown man and other times like someone doing a bad impression of a full-grown man. EVIDENCE ITEM 3: Last week he asked me what "taxes" were. He works in FINANCE.

EVIDENCE ITEM 4: During the holiday party, Vincent excused himself to "go to the bathroom" and I'm pretty sure I heard three separate toilet flushes in rapid succession. EVIDENCE ITEM 5: He claims his favorite food is "probably pizza" with the cadence of someone guessing what adults eat.

For the sixth consecutive week, someone on the third floor has been microwaving fish during lunch hours. The smell has permeated the entire floor, the elevator shaft, and possibly my soul. I have launched a personal investigation to identify the culprit. HR should be aware of my findings and also possibly intervene before I do something regrettable.

SUSPECTS: I have narrowed it down to five people who consistently disappear between 12:15 and 12:45 PM. Kevin from IT claims he's "just taking a walk" but I've noticed he returns smelling faintly of tartar sauce. Barbara from Legal always seems to have a knowing smile when the smell peaks. Suspicious.

I've installed a personal air quality monitor at my desk. When salmon levels exceed acceptable thresholds, I begin my patrol. Last Thursday I caught Kevin holding a Tupperware container with a suspicious sheen. He claimed it was chicken. It was not chicken.

This is a formal complaint about my manager, Derek "Reply-All" Henderson, who has not used a targeted email recipient since 2019. Every single communication—performance reviews, lunch orders, personal medical updates—goes to the entire company. I learned about his colonoscopy results before I learned about my own promotion.

Last month, Derek replied-all to a thread with 400+ recipients to say "Thanks!" Just "Thanks!" with an exclamation point. My inbox literally crashed. The IT department had to implement emergency protocols. Someone in Singapore replied-all asking to be removed from the thread, triggering 847 more reply-all requests to be removed.

The final straw came when Derek reply-all'd his grocery list. "Milk, eggs, that yogurt Sharon likes, the GOOD bread." The entire Finance department now knows Derek's wife Sharon has specific yogurt preferences.

I wish to formally complain about the architectural crime that is the gap in the men's bathroom stall doors. The gap is approximately 1.5 inches wide. This is enough for full eye contact with anyone who walks past. I have made accidental eye contact with the CEO, my direct reports, and a maintenance worker named Carl who now waves at me in the hallway like we're old friends.

Last week, I was mid-situation when someone stopped at the gap to check their phone. They stood there for forty-five seconds. FORTY-FIVE SECONDS of me frozen, afraid to move, breathing carefully, praying they would just leave. They didn't leave. They made a phone call. About their car insurance. I know their deductible now. I know it's $500.

I am reporting a workplace hazard: Thomas from Engineering's mechanical keyboard. The device produces approximately 87 decibels of clicking per keystroke. This exceeds OSHA noise exposure limits. I have recorded evidence that I will provide upon request.

Thomas claims his keyboard is "necessary for productivity." Thomas types approximately 40 words per minute. I have timed him. His productivity is not the issue. His keyboard sounds like a tiny army marching across my desk. Click. Click. Click. CLICK. All day. Every day. It haunts my weekends.

I bought Thomas a silent keyboard as a gift. He said it "didn't have the right feel" and continued assaulting the office with his cherry MX blue switches, which I now know are specifically designed to be the loudest switches available.

This is my fourth complaint about lunch theft. My lunch is CLEARLY LABELED. The label says "JESSICA'S LUNCH - DO NOT EAT - THIS MEANS YOU." It has been eaten four times this month. The thief even ate my label once. They ate the LABEL. What kind of monster eats a paper label?

I have escalated my security measures. My lunch bag now contains: a label, a secondary label under the first label, a small note inside the bag threatening legal action, and my leftover pasta which SOMEONE KEEPS EATING DESPITE ALL OF THIS.

On Tuesday, my lunch was stolen and replaced with a note that said "Sorry, was hungry." I AM ALSO HUNGRY. THAT'S WHY I BROUGHT LUNCH.

I would like to report that whoever controls the thermostat in this building has absolutely no concept of human comfort. On Monday, I could see my breath. On Tuesday, I was sweating through my dress shirt by 9 AM. On Wednesday, both happened in the same hour.

I have spoken to Facilities. They claim the thermostat is set to a "consistent 72 degrees." This is a lie. Either the thermostat is possessed by a demon with temperature-based mood swings, or Facilities has no idea how HVAC systems work.

At 2:47 PM every single day, the system makes a noise like a dying whale and then blasts cold air for exactly 23 minutes. I HAVE TIMED THIS. It is not random. It is targeted harassment from the building itself.

I am formally reporting that GARY from the SALES department has, for the THIRD time this week, microwaved SALMON in the break room. The smell has permeated three floors. Two interns have quit. I can still taste it in my coffee. I don't know how, but I can.

This is a hostile work environment. I didn't go to CORNELL for this.

I walked into Conference Room B at 2:47 PM expecting a budget meeting. Instead, I found KEVIN from Marketing and JENNIFER from Legal engaged in what I can only describe as "aggressive team bonding that violated at least four sections of the employee handbook."

I have several questions:
1. Why was the budget meeting not cancelled?
2. Who approved the candles?
3. Where did they get a karaoke machine on company property?

I will be taking the rest of the week off for mental health purposes. Do not contact me.

I am writing to formally complain about PETRA BLACKWOOD from Onboarding sending my emails back to me with RED PEN CORRECTIONS and a LETTER GRADE.

I am the CHIEF FINANCIAL OFFICER of this company. I should not be receiving C-minuses on my internal communications. The note "See me after class" was particularly humiliating given that I am 54 years old.

Please advise on how to proceed. She scares me.

I don't know how to officially report this, but during Raven's "team-building séance" in the supply closet, something happened that I cannot explain and am legally advised not to describe in writing.

What I CAN say:
- The lights did not "just flicker"
- MARCUS FROM ACCOUNTING did not "trip" into the filing cabinet
- The voice was NOT from a Bluetooth speaker
- We found out things about Q4 projections that TURNED OUT TO BE 100% ACCURATE

I am requesting a transfer to a different floor. Preferably one without demonic energy.

I am concerned that "Wine Wednesday" has become "Wine All Week" under Harper Frost's influence. Yesterday I witnessed:

- A Cabernet being served at 9:15 AM (during standup)
- The CFO openly weeping into his Merlot about "the numbers"
- An unauthorized cheese platter appearing in the boardroom
- Someone proposing a toast "to the downfall of our enemies"

I don't know who our enemies are. I don't think anyone does. But we toasted anyway.

Where do I even begin.

1. The COMPANY LOGO ice sculpture cost $47,000. IT MELTED IN THREE HOURS.
2. Who gave THE CEO the karaoke mic? He sang "All I Want for Christmas Is You" FOUR TIMES.
3. The proposal in the middle of the dance floor was uncomfortable for everyone, especially since SHE SAID NO. They still sit next to each other. It's been three weeks.
4. Security was called. I'm told this is "routine." It should not be.
5. Where did the LIVE REINDEER come from? There was no PETTING ZOO on the approved vendor list.
6. The photos of the CEO in the Santa costume are now being used as "leverage" by at least three people.

I have been at this company for 11 years. This was, somehow, not the worst holiday party.

I am writing to express concern about the CEO's new weekly newsletter, "Chad's Corner" (now renamed multiple times, currently "Leadership Insights").

Last week's edition included:
- A 2,000-word review of his new electric scooter
- His fantasy football picks (he was wrong about all of them)
- A "motivational poem" that rhymed "synergy" with "energy" four times
- A photo of him at a winery with the caption "Leaders drink deep"

Reading it is mandatory. Enjoying it is not possible.

I have worked at this company for NINE YEARS. My parking spot, #47, was just reassigned to KEVIN, who has been here ELEVEN MONTHS and does not even own a car.

When I asked Natasha Volkov about this, she simply LOOKED at me until I apologized and left.

I don't know what I apologized for. I still don't have a parking spot. Kevin still doesn't have a car.

At 9:47 AM this morning, DEREK FROM MARKETING accidentally Reply-All'd to the entire company (4,247 employees) with the following message:

"I cannot BELIEVE Jessica got the promotion over me. Everyone knows she only got it because she laughs at all of Chad's jokes. This company is a JOKE. Also, who keeps stealing my yogurt from the fridge? I know it's you, OTHER DEREK."

There are 14 Dereks at this company. All 14 have now filed complaints. Jessica has filed a complaint. Chad has NOT filed a complaint but is "deeply wounded." The yogurt thief remains at large.