Use a Typewriter!

There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this!

You see, I was using the typewriter, but because I type 480 wpm, the person in the cubicle next to me, heard the "clackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclack" of the typebars hitting the platen and thought I was firing an automatic weapon. In fear of their safety they called the police who immediately sent the swat team. Suddenly, as I was dutifully typing my correspondence, a tear gas grenade landed at my feet and my cube began to fill with the lachrymatory agent! I coughed and wheezed, but pressed on in my efforts to utilize the typewriter. A second grenade sailed into my cube, followed by a third. The air was so thick with bromide I could barely see what I was typing. "T... h... i... s... space..." I typed, laboring with every keystroke, struggling for every breath. "i...s... space... a... space... b... u... s... i...n...e...". My breaths became shorter and shorter, my eyes and lungs burned. Blood flowed like battery acid to every finger... "s... s.. space... o...f... f.. i..c...e... space...". Finally, 23 armed swat team members rushed into my cube, threw me on the ground, beat me with batons and then handcuffed me. As they escorted me off the premises I asked for a pen and some paper to ensure that my correspondence would be complete. As I spent the next 3 months in various secret prisons and jails, being tortured and interrogated, I managed to scratch out the remainder of my correspondence by hand.

So as you can see, I made every attempt to type out my correspondence, but I was thwarted by the overzealous paranoia of my coworkers and I would appreciate a little recognition for my efforts.

Vomit in the Stairwells

I don't know why they had to send out a memo, this is all just a big misunderstanding. There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this!

You see, a friend of mine was carrying his aquarium into the office. Unfortunately, the glass aquarium was damaged as he accidentally drove over a giant pothole in the parking lot. Due to the decreased structural integrity, while we were carrying it into the building, the glass broke causing the entire collection of jellyfish to end up right on his face!

Understandably in anguish from the multiple jellyfish stings, he went running down the hall looking for the restroom. When he found the restrooms on the ground floor to be locked, he ran for the stairwell to try another floor. Unfortunately, before he could make it to the second floor, the pain became too much to bear, and he vomited in the stairwell. Remembering my boy scout training, I quickly began to urinate on him to to relieve the pain of the jellyfish stings. Fortunately, this did the trick, but now he was covered in urine, so we made our way to restroom. As we walked, I used my cell phone to call poison control to see if there was anything else that needed to be done. When we got to the restroom, they informed me that the best solution was to rinse thoroughly with fresh water.

Maybe I'm just blowing this whole thing out or proportion, but this memo makes it sound like we're crazy or something. That's corporate America for ya...