For you, person upstairs from me, thanks for the detailed description of your oh so important previously scheduled meeting with that oh so important person. I am sorry that your meeting, which you have told us all about a thousand times, has not received what you deem an appropriate degree of praise. By sending that “reply all” we will all immediately “reply all” with sufficient admiration of your ability to sit in the presence of greatness during a time we could be sitting with your greatness. Damn. And you, strange temporary person, thanks for the “reply all” with 28 questions regarding the meeting agenda. Look, we get it. You are trying to look engaged, like you are infinitely fascinated with the workings of our department, an invaluable member of our team. Whatever, your “reply all” will not make your job permanent. Sorry.
For all of you perpetual ass-kissers: Yes, the meeting is about those issues you discussed privately with the Department Head over martinis. And yes Parent, we all understand that you need to pick up Junior at his clarinet lessons. But thanks for the detailed account of his musical genius. I am truly thrilled he has improved (I have been concerned that his clarinet skills have not been honed to their full potential ever since he assaulted all of us with that hideous, utterly craptacular, “performance” you forced upon us at your dinner party last year). People who just selected a day—congratulations, you got things half right! But why did you send this email to everyone? Not necessary, please re-read the first paragraph of this post. For all of you silent responders: Thank you. We will prevail (I happen to know that we are the only ones invited to the exciting meeting with the monkeys).