Overheard at Work, vol. LXXXV

I have nothing clever to say about the last two weeks. It's been steadily busy. We're all mildly sick. The kids are squirrely.

October is notoriously long.

"Street pharmacist"--my colleague's poetic euphemism for "drug dealer."

Colleague B, confirming my personal information for the annual audit: Your date of birth?
Me: 6/23/1983
Colleague B: Your date of hire was...1/3/11.
Me: Yes.
Colleague B: You're single?
Me: ...Yes...WAY TO RUB IT IN!

Me: I want a nickname!
Kid 1: Drammy!...Acty!
Kid 2: Candy!
Kid 3: Fanny!...CYNTHIA!

Colleague C, re. her dog barking at servicemen who appear at her apartment: (whispering) She's classist!

11-year-old girl, to her teammate, playing Foos Ball: Put some rubber on that boot. Be a duuuuuuuuuude!

10-year-old girl: Salads are...eh.
Me: Salads are amazing!
Girl: Yeah, with French fries!

Colleague D, re his mid-day snack: I might have to break into my emergency hot dog!

Colleague E, calling after another colleague walking up the stairs: Look at you, lookin all bad! Lookin like a piece of autumn!