Guy that has a cigarette right before he gets in an elevator

Hey!

You’re a smoker! You probably started when you were 14 years old and became instantly cool and admired, right? You didn’t care where you smoked and nobody said anything to you about it. The thing is, now you’re in your 20s/30s/40/s and not only is it not cool anymore, but you really should have learned some respect by now. You need to understand that when you smoke, you STINK. And when you have your last puff as you’re walking through the door of a building and head right into the elevator, you smell up EVERYTHING around you and no one can get a fucking breath in. If I get into an elevator, I like to be able to inhale at least once on my way up, and with you standing there, reeking of cigarettes and cheap perfume you spray over yourself to try and mask the smell that you’re obviously ashamed of but don’t care too much about, I can’t take a breath. You’re as bad as those 23 year old, greased-back hair, gold-chain wearing Axe bathers, only your smell is much more toxic.
Next time you decide to have a cigarette two feet away from a doorway (which, by the way, is really fucking rude and inconsiderate to people going in and out of the building), take an extra 30 seconds to stand outside and let the wind blow the stench off a little. It’s time to think about others.

Hey guy that has a cigarette right before he gets in an elevator! YOU’RE A BIG JERK!

Crack-head that comes into my office and makes me fear for my life

Hey!

I'm sitting at my desk, writing jokes or whatever I do during my day job and you walk in. You look grubby and weird, so I assume you're a courier. You start asking if I need help and then tell me that you want a credit card. Oh, you're not a courier, you're a crack-head. I politely tell you that I can't give you a credit card and that I don't think I can help you here. You proceed to STARE at me for THREE MINUTES while I politely ask you to leave. You tell me I'm beautiful. I say I'm flattered but you still need to leave. You get more aggressive, telling me that you want to open your own bank and you need a credit card to do so because you don't have any money. I try to explain the Canadian banking system to you. You don't understand. This whole time, I can't see your left hand. You then tell me that it's really quiet out here. I say "yes, everyone works in the back" and you say "that's perfect". My inner monologue spins into "oh my god, he has a gun and he is going to shoot me in this quiet reception area. Which co-worker will find me? Will they call my mom? I just got this new white sweater. Where can I possibly run to?" I push the panic button under my desk. I push it again. Again. I wait patiently.

I call the biggest, toughest co-worker I can think of and he comes out. He explains the Canadian banking system to you. You don't understand. You argue with him and he uses big words to confuse you. Finally you leave after 10 minutes. I call security and find out that 1) they were trying to catch you and 2) my panic button doesn't work.

Hey crack-head that comes into my office and makes me fear for my life! YOU'RE A BIG JERK!