Hey, Ashley! Thanks for coming. Please, sit down. Care for some bundt cake? There was some leftover from Darius’ going away party. I can’t believe he’s joining the Coast Guard. He’s like 36!

Anyway, I bet when you saw the meeting invite I sent over you were like… what the heck, haha.

Plus, in the 16-person conference room?! You probably thought you were walking into an emergency board meeting!

Nope, just me. All the smaller rooms were booked anyway. I need to come clean. Ashley, I actually didn’t invite you here to discuss edits to the pitch deck like the meeting invite said. I want to give you a whole new pitch. Sorry, just let me clear my throat. Buttercream frosting gives me acid reflux.

Okay… here I go!

It’s not in every position I meet a customer success coordinator like you. These last three fiscal quarters have been some of the most incredible, high-yield investment cycles of my portfolio. I can’t help but think back to our first interaction together.

Do you remember that? It was my first day. The regional manager was introducing me to everyone. When we got to your desk, before even saying, “Nice to meet ya,” I pointed out how big of a cup you were drinking out of. Without missing a beat, you swung your custom ergonomic chair around, removed your blue blockers, and said, “You should see my wine glass!” That was pure class.

Ashley, when I work with you, I feel like I’m on a never-ending Personal Improvement Plan. If management held me accountable to a SMART goal, I think it would go something like this: by the end of this fiscal year, I will schedule a bajillion weekly check-ins to track the progress of those famous peanut butter balls you keep telling us about.

I don’t even care if Shelby has an allergy. Maybe she can use that EpiPen of hers to write a damn email for once. And the riffing we get up to in our Slack, #itsalwaysapizzapartyneveraraise. Like, how do you come up with stuff like that? Absolutely legendary. Must be all that Real Time with Bill Maher and Gutfeld! you watch that keeps you so sharp.

I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you on a personal level, too. When you used radical honesty during the Safe Spaces, Brave Voices breakout session at this year’s employee retreat, I had no idea your vaccine side effects were that bad. I totally understand your skepticism now.

You may think this is coming out of left field, but I know these feelings are mutual. My suspicions were confirmed at our last happy hour. We both went for the last mac and cheese bite, but I asked, “Don’t you have ten more days in your dairy-free trial period to rule out lactose as a contributor to your stomach issues?” You gave me a firm, playful slap. The contact of your skin on my quarter-zip sent a jolt through my entire body. I called IT to give me a remote reboot!

Maybe it was the tall beer you goaded me into ordering or the Jimmy Buffett cover band that was changing my attitude and latitude. Either way—in that moment—I knew I wanted to work wifey you up.

Just a little bit ago I got off the phone with your husband. I got his number from your emergency contact form in Sharepoint. He wasn’t exactly thrilled with the proposition. It kind of seemed like he didn’t even know who I was! I mean I talked about you all the time with my wife, even before the divorce. I felt it was my duty to ask his permission regardless of his answer, which was undetermined because I hung up before getting one.

So, Ashley, will you be my work wife? In sick days and in wellness days, in times of unlimited PTO and in times of unpaid administrative leave?

Ashley, you have to answer quickly. I’m pretty sure your husband called the police, and HR has likely been tipped off. In fact, I can hear the pitter patter of dress sneakers and standard-issue police boots coming down the hallway.

You need some time to think about it? Would EOD be a feasible ask for an answer? Awesome awesome awesome. Well, hey, I gotta jet. My phone is in about 30 pieces in the men’s bathroom trash, so don’t text me. I’ll keep my eyes open for an answer. Get creative!

Man, they make these windows hard to open, but it’s all good. Google AI definitively said humans can survive falls of 60 feet. This can’t be more than 52.

Ashley, consider me out of office.