Continually declare, “My allergies are so bad today” so it’s easily heard by everyone working in silence in a 30-foot radius. That way no one will notice your puffy face or badly broken spirit.
Read the wikiHow article with instructions on how to stop crying, take the tips and tricks and ignore how pathetic it makes you feel.
Head to your office’s modern yet impersonal kitchen, grab a couple of handfuls of ice in which to submerge your face. Throw away ice located at the top of the pile in case anyone else touched it.
If you can find a corner full of people who previously slept with coworkers and can no longer face the rest of the department, hide among them.
Take your laptop and set up camp in a bathroom stall, the presence of a door all but puts you on the executive floor.
Realize you’ve been forced to endure coughing fits, hard-boiled eggs, and endless clearly important calls based on their sheer volume and location, inches from your face. Embrace your breakdown.
Cry your eyes out and hurl used tissues at your coworkers since your building is so modern and progressive, there isn’t a single unsightly trash receptacle in sight.
Threaten to throw yourself from the rooftop patio because the removal of walls has barely hidden the hierarchy and ultimately instilled power dynamics, ensuring that those most insecure wield every ounce of leverage available over the lowliest of you.
Wail so the entire floor will have no choice but to hear you, scream so loud that they remove their noise-canceling headphones. Tell them their banal small talk about the weather and Netflix binges has turned them into mannequins, and they’ve lost their humanity.
Stand on your elevating desk, push the “up” button, and slowly rise as you deliver your manifesto — a prophet in an Ann Taylor blouse.
Tell them, through tears of fury as they gaze up at you from their lonely “collaborative” workstations that we are in late-stage capitalism, and this is all a charade with titles to keep the workers in line.
As security approaches, produce the emergency conch shell you keep in your Herschel Supply Co. backpack, inform them, “This is the new law.”
Recruit the accountants first, unassuming perhaps, but they harbor the most violent repressed rage.
Sacrifice an unloved higher-up to get your coworkers on your side, feed his flesh to a ruthless up and comer to set an example, give him a Pamplemousse La Croix to wash it down, no… lime.
Break the office into tribes, strip the people of their titles and their appropriate yet unremarkable work wear. Distribute stamp ink and permanent markers as war paint.
Cut off a coworker’s fingertips with a paper cutter for questioning your methods.
Realize you’ve gone too far, but there’s no turning back. Double down. Claim kitchens and bathrooms as your domain, start a war over resources.
Or, find a tucked away meeting area and work from there for the day.