Coffee. Chaos. Corporate damnation. (In that order.)

Andrew Toney
Aug 18
2 min read

From the desk of Steve, Morale Assassin-in-Chief

Monday again. Don’t act surprised. It shows up every damn week like an uninvited vampire who insists on draining you dry—except vampires at least have charisma. Mondays are just stale breath and an endless stream of Outlook invites from demons who think synergy is a personality trait.

This morning I rolled out of bed (coffin, technically), tripped over the unpaid bills of my mortal life, and immediately walked face-first into a stack of HR memos. Apparently, someone in “Soul Processing” thinks it’s “not professional” to scream into the void at interns. Newsflash: the void screamed first.

Then came the coffee fiasco. The breakroom machine is possessed again. One minute it’s hissing like a banshee, the next it’s spitting out something that tastes like burnt resentment. I drank it anyway. Not because I wanted to—because caffeine is the only legally allowed drug in this place. At least until Accounting clears my requisition form for whiskey IV drips. (Pending since 1487.)

And the meetings. My god, the meetings. We had a three-hour strategy session about “streamlining the reaping process.” Translation: upper management doesn’t know what we do, doesn’t care, and wants to replace us with an app that charges $9.99 a month. Imagine explaining to Death himself that his job is being outsourced to a start-up called “Soul.ly.”

By noon, I was already done with the week. By 2 p.m., I was ready to climb into the incinerator just for the peace and quiet. But no, apparently I still had to file three reports, attend another “mandatory wellness seminar” (in Hell, no less), and chase down a ghost who keeps photocopying its face on the office copier.

So here I am, typing this newsletter with one hand, holding a mug of liquid spite with the other, and contemplating whether I should just pull the fire alarm and walk into the flames like a true professional.

Welcome to Monday. Welcome to Dead Inside Co. Welcome to me. You’ll get your mugs, your blog posts, your unholy ambiance—but let’s be real: the only thing you’re really getting is dragged down with me into this bureaucratic pit of despair.

If you were hoping for motivation, inspiration, or joy—you’ve come to the wrong place. All I’ve got is coffee, sarcasm, and an overwhelming sense of doom.

⚰️ Corporate-Souled CTA

If you’d like to join me in caffeinated misery, the Dead Inside Co. shop is now open. Grab a mug that perfectly screams “I hate this place” before I throw them all into the furnace out of spite.

Or, if you prefer words to drinkware, lurk in the Dead Inside Co. Blog where my weekly rants live—because misery loves company, and I’m fresh out of interns to yell at.

Consider it your corporate-mandated onboarding. Welcome aboard. No one leaves.

Yours eternally,

Steve